


Another Bottle

by Pinkfluffboy



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, M/M, Past Abuse, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Strangers to Lovers, Trans Character, Trans Jesse McCree
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-05-19 15:10:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 35,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14876118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinkfluffboy/pseuds/Pinkfluffboy
Summary: Hanzo is currently in a drunk haze after killing Genji. As Jesse is getting out of the drunken haze from Overwatch and Blackwatch's fall out. Slowly Hanzo becomes a regular and a friend of the cowboy. Soon to become more.





	1. Blackwatch

**Author's Note:**

> This might not tie to Overwatch's history and the way it's known. I'm going from a month after the fall out. Hanzo is in the 'Casual' clothing. Scion was before it. 
> 
> Brief mentions of R76 and PharMercy will be brought into the story.

It was a slow and depressing night in Blackwatch. The same old drunks full of misery and regret.

Jesse stood behind the bar counter. Setting down washed glasses on the racks. Smoking a cigar, paying no mind to the drunk men in the corner of the room. A ceiling light illuminating their gloomy faces. Shot glasses empty, having dribbled down onto their shirts.

He had made it a point to turn off any complimentary music by now. Feeling his own pain crawl around in his stomach. Glancing at the small stage, unused microphone. The empty booths, not a soul to tease him about being a good bartender or scold him about the cigar. The wooden guitar sitting cold and as untouched as the microphone, just behind the counter. The dark theme of the place had once been a comfort. Now only a sad memory filled with people who weren't around.

Glancing at his metallic arm. He wasn't sure why he came back. Blackwatch wasn't a good memory to keep around. He could've resigned to being a bounty hunter again maybe something simpler if money was the case. The handgun, resting in the inner shelves of the bar, only seemed to remind him of them more. But that was something he wouldn't get rid of. He couldn't and wouldn't.

“One glass of vodka.” His eyes opened at the words. Vodka? Wondering who was looking for such a heavy drink at such a late hour.

Only seeing an Asian man sitting on the last stood. He was new. The bags beneath his eyes, the piercing on the bridge of his nose and the shaved sides of his head. Definitely new but he was certain the man had already drank. He smelled like it. Not only that but he was leaning a little. He almost wouldn't have noticed but he had a sharp eye. Not a single detail slipping his eyes.

However, didn't deny him a drink. Rough times, he's been through that. Maybe not asking for things that would have him throwing up in the back of a bar, but he had his fair share of drinks. There was tenseness in the man, it was obvious. The way he stared at the countertop, slouched over it. That or he was going to vomit. Which wasn't a pleasant thought. He set the glass in front of him. “Just a friendly tip, if yer’ gettin’ too tipsy the bathrooms over there.” The brunette advised as he returned the pale bottle to the shelf. He didn't get a reply, he didn't quite expect one either. Instead he went back to cleaning the glasses, watching the men stand up with shaky legs. Leaving their money on the table, beneath an empty glass. They ordered the same amount, the same drink. Empty. Now only one client left.

It was silent. The only noise that buzzed in the silence was the soft clinking of the glass cups he was drying and cleaning from anything he might've missed during the wash. He had learned over time to keep his eyes off clients who seemed to want their space. A neat trick he learned mostly from Deadlock. He had enough scars to prove it.

A quiet groan startled him out of thoughts. He glanced in the man's direction. It looked like he was struggling to swallow the vodka. He stared for a brief moment seeing the man glare at him. He looked away, returning to the finished glasses. He'd have to clean out a few more before closing. It beat spending hours awake staring at the blank wall and remembering. Too bad he didn't have anyone to go and collect the glasses at the empty tables. Taking a small glance at the man. He could take him on if he posed any sort of trouble. He looked easy enough.

Leaving the bar to collect the money and dirty dishes. Settling the money into his black apron while he put the glasses onto the silver tray. Turning around, looking at the back of the stranger. A blue duffel bag sitting beside his stool. Beige boots and navy blue sweatpants. A small laugh left him, he looked rather small from the back of the bar.

He began walking towards the bar. Keeping a steady hand beneath the tray as he pushed in a few chairs along the way. Returning to the bar, the Asian man sat there looking dazed… or focused? It was hard to tell when he kept staring down at the countertop. The glass was empty. “You want somethin’ lighter? Won't make you as sick as vodka but’ll do the trick.” He offered, he was stuck in bars at late hours. Drinking all kinds of whiskey but not vodka. That was never in his history of drinking. Reaching for a weaker bottle of beer. A cold one wouldn't hurt.

The man lifted his head, looking… sick. He looked sick. He was not going to keep it down. “Shit, wait don't get it on the counter.” He jumped over the counter. Luckily it was free of anything at the moment. He rushed to the man, forcing him into his feet. Carrying half his weight, at least he was still conscious enough to walk. He walked him as fast as he could to the bathrooms, shoving the door open as he dragged the man inside. Thankful he had somewhat decent clean customers. The floors were clean and he didn't have to worry about walking through any vomit or bodily _fluids_.

He helped him into one of the stalls and sure enough, the vodka came right back up. He didn't look like much of strong drinker either and this only proved his thoughts correct. He stepped out the stall checking himself, nothing fell on him. He sighed in relief, the first drunk was a messy experience. Not something he'd like to think about currently. So he dug into the pockets of his apron, finding the keys. Walking quickly to the cabinets in right side of the bathroom, unlocking them with ease. Finding small white towels. Gabe always had a soft heart, much of a helping hand to those who came in with all sorts of problems on their shoulders… he shook his head at the thought and grabbed two. Shutting it as he walked back to the stall, it sounded like he was done so it should be easier to wrap it up now. The man was slouched over the stall, heaving deep breaths. Strands of hair slipping from out of his tied hair.

“You done?” He crouched beside him, watching him rest his head on his arm. The man muttered something, nothing he could catch. “Well, here's the plan. If you're good 'nuff to walk it home or even remember yer’ address gimme a nod.” Jesse watched as the Asian man groaned quietly and murmured quietly.

“Alright, if you can't least help me get y’clean and get you somewhere other than here y’hear?” No comprehensive response. Sighing to himself as he stood up, walking to the sinks. Running the water, cold. He damped one towel and left the other dry. Glancing in the mirror, his hair was out of sort. Cigar still in his mouth. He hadn't even remembered it being there. He took it out of his mouth, pressed the lit part to the wet sink. Letting the tobacco go to waste. Not that he cared too much, he could use some air besides the smell of smoke. Leaving it there as he turned out the water, returning to his guest.

“Alright, c’mere.” He whispered mostly to himself as he crouched beside him. Cleaning his face, even if the man tried to protest his actions. Up close he noticed some distinct bruises along with cuts. Man of a lot of fights? Maybe he was more of a winner than a guy in defeat.

It then hit him. Just what type of man was he helping out? Did he deserve the help he was getting? The man looked like regret the second he saw him, not to mention the way he tried downing a drink he couldn't handle. With no one to impress, so he was trying to wash something out.

He could figure that all out in the morning. Right now?

He didn't much like someone laying on his toilets.

Hoisting him up, groaning at the weight. He didn't look like so much but that didn't mean he wasn't heavy. The man was speaking in some other language, letting himself be carried. Not bothering to try and understand, but he had heard it before.

Catching the name 'Genji’ a few times. He knew a man with that name, can't say the cyborg was much of a chatterbox during their time as work buddies. Poor guy, he thought at the memory of the cyborg. Said cyborg was now gone, along with the rest of Overwatch and Blackwatch.

He drew his mind away from it. He had to let it be. It wasn't going to be any sort of help if there was two drunks. McCree carried the man out of the bathroom, feeling the man hold onto his shoulders. “Mighty friendly…” He mumbled as he stopped to carry the man better. Adjusting the weight into his arms. Continuing his walk to a door near the bar. He knew it wasn't the brightest idea but it was better then leaving him with a gun out in the drinking place. Not to mention he could steal the goods. Listening to the wood creak beneath his boots and the man whisper words that weren't in English or Spanish.

Stopping in front of the door to turn the silver knob. Pushing the door open, quickly returning the arm to carry the man. “God yer’ heavy.” He complained and walked into the room. He had turned the rather large storage room into a bedroom. Impressive, he thought to himself. It took a lot of work. Dropping the man onto the bed, well, he lowered him then dropped him. The room looked unused, only a few pictures and posters to show much of any life inside it. Drawers and a wardrobe. Only one gun was in that room. The rest were hidden behind the bar. Inhaling as he rubbed his back, walking out of the bedroom. Walking back to the stool and grabbing the duffel bag the man had brought in with him.

Stopping as he stared at it.

He could find out exactly who this man was and what he carried. Glancing into the room. The bag was slightly dirty but still looked new. It could come into use to know he was tangling himself with. But, that man also was probably just only looking for a drink. A place to forget. Just like he had also looked when things fell apart for him. Staring at for a long while before shaking his head.

He was getting himself into a mess and he knew that very well. The brunette walked into the bedroom, dropping the bed on the bag on floor. Sparing one last glance at the stranger. Already fast asleep on the bed. Looking a little less tense asleep than he did when he was awake and trying to drown in liquor. He shut the door.

McCree stared at the mess he had ahead of him. A lot of cleaning but, at least it would keep him busy on a sleepless night.

 

←→

 

He woke up to the sound of footsteps. He lifted his head to see him. The Asian man stood near the table he sat at, he was looking around, squinting. It made him wince, he could almost feel the migraine and hangover. “You're in Blackwatch. A bar in America.” Jesse stretched and watched him turn to look at Jesse. Confusion was quickly cleared from his face. A stern look clouded his expression. He could almost say that he reminded of himself when he was in his younger days.

“When did I come in?” The man questioned and looked at him hard. Jesse acted like he did with every client, cool and nice. Just a touch more kinder because the guy was having a hangover.

“A thanks would be nice.” Jesse stood up, feeling the stiffness in his neck from sleeping sitting down and over a table… Not the best place to sleep. “You came in ‘round one am. Don't worry you didn't get touchy with anyone and no one got touchy with you.” He added and looked at him, wincing as the sunlight crept through the curtains onto his face.

“You look like you could use a good coffee and some food n’ ya'.” The way the man stepped back, hurt. He didn't do anything but help. Feeling the need to pout and being a little less nice. But, he held himself. Being as patient as he could be. 

"Thank you for your… help. However, I must leave.” Jesse raised both eyebrows as the man pulled out his wallet. Well that was, nice. Maybe not what he expected from him.

“Don't worry 'bout it. Keep the money,” Jesse raised a hand as if to gesture him to stop “just don't go around getting drunk n’ passing out. Could get yer’ self in some deep trouble.” McCree offered a smile, he didn't mind the money so much. It was always busy during the afternoon, got him enough money. More than enough truth be told. The Asian man seemed a little surprised but did put away the wallet.

“I will keep that in mind.” He looked uneasy about the advice. Touchy subject. He guessed.

“Well let's get ya’ on your way.” McCree pulled the keys out from his apron pocket. “Also, if you wanna get drunk but not in over yer’ head. Try askin’ for whiskey or maybe some rum. You'll get by on either. Vodka will come right back up if yer’ not used to it.” Jesse commented as he unlocked the door to the bar. He got a hum in reply, at least it was something. The door clicked as it opened, he pulled the door aside and stood beside it. The man stopped at the door, turning to look at Jesse. Like he had something to say. The brunette stared at him, attentive eyes. Thinking it was going to be a question like 'what did I do?’ or 'did you look in my belongings?’.

“Thank you again for your help. I apologise for any troubles.” He almost feared he'd pull out his wallet again, even if he didn't look like the type to apologise a lot he sure did. He couldn't let the man spend the money for all he knew the money could be used for hotels and living purposes. Without it he could end up in tight spots. He didn't want to live with more guilt on his shoulders.

“Sure thing darlin’ and don't you worry 'bout anythin’. It ain't nothin’ I don't handle a few times a week anyway. Have a nice, rest of the day.” He smiled and waved him goodbye as he left. The man soon disappeared down the sidewalk, leaving no trace of himself behind.

Breathing in quietly, shutting the door. Standing behind the door, pressing his forehead against the shutters.

He was exhausted. Feeling the dark shutters against his skin, they'll probably leave a mark on his forehead. Not finding much of the energy to care.

A click.

A gun.

“Who the hell are you and what are you doing here?” He knew that voice.

“Looking for the same thing as you sugar.” He replied and turned around. Her tan skin illuminated by the morning sun. Silver gun in her hands. Her face filled with realization.

“Jesse?”


	2. Stranger

The morning was spent in tears, long deserved hugs, and a few drinks to make the moment easier. Along with a decent shower to wash away the smell of beer and gloom.

 

“Still can't believe yer’ still in one piece. After the fall… I thought everyone lost a body part or at least somethin’ like it. It's good t’see that yer’ safe.” Jesse breathed and smiled half-heartedly. Unable to think of something to say that wasn't about their lost ones. Fareeha smiled glumly, sparing a look at his metal arm.

 

“I see you didn't keep yourself out of trouble, Jesse. I'm glad you're alive too.” The Egyptian woman smiled warmly, keeping a composed look. Standing tall as she watched him put away the tequila and throw away the used lemons. He was in his uniform rather than his cowboy outfit she had seen him so often in.

 

“Well, it happens in our line a’ work.” McCree replied and toyed with the grains of salt on the countertop. Unable to look her in the eye, knowing they'd fall back into another hour of tears and broken words. “Do y’plan on stayin’ 'round these areas?” Jesse asked quietly and glanced up, looking at her face. She nodded, gaze softening.

 

“Yes, Angela and I are living close by to the bar. So far, I found you and Angie alive. Hopefully, we'll find more…” Fareeha breathed quietly, almost knowing who she meant. The thought of seeing Gabriel again made his eyes sting from questioning tears. The man was a father figure, not only that but he was also the man that pulled him out of Deadlock. A place he wouldn't dare return to.

 

Nodding in reply. Stopping himself from taking a bottle off the shelf and continue their hurt. “Well, I should start opening the bar.” He said as he inhaled deeply, collecting himself. Fareeha nodded and wiped her eye, staring down at the bar. Jesse decided not to make a note of it, she was being discrete and didn't want to address it. He knew her well enough to know that.

 

He walked to the door of the bar, opening the shutters. Tucking a strand of hair behind his ears as he reached for his keys. Staring at the Blackwatch on the key. Unlocking the door and letting the late morning sun pour inside the place.

 

“Jesse I want to help you around the bar. Like, before.” McCree turned his head, looking over his shoulder at Pharah. Black pants and a blue V-neck shirt. He opened the shutters to the larger windows.

 

“Sure. Don't suppose you brought a button shirt.” Jesse turned around, tucking the keys into his back pocket. “I got a few more upstairs but they're from the old uniforms. Haven't washed ‘em. You could check ‘n my room if you want somethin’ less dusty.” Jesse chuckled as she smiled, it was comforting to see her smile again. Brought back comforting memories.

 

←→

 

He glanced at the clock on the wall. Afternoon already and it was crowded. Well, he didn't expect any less, it was a Saturday and the regulars were always on time. Fareeha was just as quick as she had been during the days Overwatch was still around. Taking orders for drinks and setting down small bowls of peanuts on the tables. Making sure nothing broke into a fight or broken dishes. Angela had said she’d stop by the bar, he was happy to see the doctor. He even missed how much she complained about his smoking habits.

 

A soft knock startled him out of his thoughts. He glanced at the people sitting on the stools, they weren't responsible for the knock. In fact, they were either too busy on their phone or in their own thoughts to make much of any sounds. He glanced down the row of seats, finding _him_.

 

“Stranger, howdy.” He greeted and walked down the bar, towards the Asian man. The man gave him a small wave in response, sitting up tall. He wore a black turtleneck and the same jacket from yesterday but it didn't reek of alcohol. At least that was a better start. “What’ll be this time?” Jesse asked with a smile, trying to enlighten the man. He didn't get a glare but a silent pause.

 

“Sake.” No harsh tone, well not too mean like when he was drunk. Jesse nodded, the stranger had dark brown eyes that could be confused with pure black. Sharply framed cheekbones.

 

“Comin’ right up.” Jesse winked with a grin as he turned to look at the tall shelf behind him. Eyes scanning the labels of the bottles, humming to himself quietly. There! On the top shelf. He reached for the old tall black bottle of sake. He remembered seeing it when they first stocked on alcohol, the bottle was strange looking. It wasn't big, it was thin and tall unlike most of the bottles. Turning around to grab a small glass cup. From his visit to Japan, he knew they didn't exactly use the glasses he had for sake but it was close enough. Giving the bottle a fairly good shake before pouring the drink into the glass. “There y’go, a glass of sake.” Jesse placed the cup down in front of him. The man took it into his hand, his knuckles looked red and bruised. Jesse looked away. Catching a glimpse of Fareeha, she was talking to a couple in the back corner. An Omnic and a man, reminding him of his own dates. Being on discrete dates when he was in commission with Blackwatch. It was the time he discovered his sexuality. Who knew it’d take him so long to realize it. It was frightening as a teenager, even scarier when he had to confront someone about it. But it went better than he could've hoped for. An understanding and patient adult to ground him during such a tough moment. It made him smile at the memory. Said adult would've probably pushed him to go and look for a nice date—

 

“Jesse.” He blinked out of his thoughts and looked up at Gabriel. Breathing in sharply, shaking his head. Fareeha, Fareeha. “You got two more.” She looked at him with a hint of worry, narrowing her eyes as she inspected him. Just like Ana had— Immediately brushing off her concern. Taking the paper she put on the counter.

 

“Got it.” He replied and turned to the wooden shelf of alcohol. Glancing down at the note, a familiar drink. He reached for the bottle, stopping to let his mind calm down after the memory of Gabriel and Ana. He knew Gabriel wasn't coming back and thinking about the man wasn't going to make him feel any better. Ana, he knew, was alive but lost in the crowds of people. They both knew.

 

He concentrated on getting the bottle down and getting the drinks out. His mind left him as he poured the liquor into the two cups.

 

“Here y’are.” McCree exhaled and gave Pharah the two glasses, glancing at her face. The worry held onto her expression but didn't say anything. Giving a quiet thanks as she took away the cups.

 

He felt someone staring, he glanced at the Asian man and sure enough, he was staring. “Need a refill?” He breathed and mustered up a smile. He nodded and let Jesse take the small glass cup, filling it with sake once more. “Nice pick, not too strong though.” The brunette commented and gazed at the man.

 

“I suppose not.” Was all he got in reply with a nod for thanks. Not giving the quietness much thought. The man wasn't addressing the night before, not asking a single thing. Maybe it happened a lot. Well it wasn't a pretty thing to ask or mention, having a stranger take care of you when you're drunk and throwing up. It made him wince, remembering himself in the same position.

 

“Bartender! Some service here!” The voice was loud but not enough to disturb the crowd, except those sitting on the stools. A few making displeased faces as they glanced in the direction of the voice. Jesse turned to look at a rather large man. Drunk and mostly a… mess. Stained shirt from liquor, he assumed.

 

“What'll be?” The brunette asked as he stood in front of him, behind the counter. Said drunk man was sitting just beside his stranger from yesterday. The Asian man didn't look too pleased about it. He was stuck between wanting to laugh about it or feeling bad for the man.

 

“Gimme a beer.” He felt the need to decline him a drink, he looked like an annoying drunk. Possibly one to start a fight or start bothering other customers. However, he nodded and moved away to grab a beer. Pouring it into a tall glass. Glancing up at the customers sitting on the stools. A woman stood up, leaving cash on the countertop. A man following after her, leaving his pay besides hers. He didn't bother with a goodbye since they were caught up in their phones. They probably didn't like someone bothering their peaceful space. No one would like that, he thought to himself as he shot a glance at the man. He had black hair, tight clothes, and expensive looking jewellery. Only adding to his worries about the man. He had the stereotypical looks and all.

 

“Here y’go.” He said as he planted the drink in front of the man. Not bothering to sweeten his voice or face. There was no need to sweeten the man for a tip, he was too drunk to even notice any sort of charm. He walked away from them, putting away the bottles he had taken out. Collecting the money on the countertop, gathering the dirty dishes. A heavy laugh drew him from any thoughts he had going. Glancing over to see it was the drunk man, his arm close to the Asian man’s. Then clapping it over the man's shoulder. Deciding not to be interested in what was going to occur, he looked over at Fareeha. She was already staring at the back of the man. As if she already knew what type of trouble he would be. She had experienced drunks in the past, but never did she witness them first hand. It was mostly stories and staring from afar. Though she could easily put them down, it wasn't up to her to get rid of them. Gabriel always got—

 

Glaring at the glass cups. He needed to stop remembering things from the past. Reminding himself he was not going to end up well with so many memories of the past in his mind. He had drunk memories to remind him of that. Breathing quietly as he looked at the register. A soft grunt made him look back at the stranger and the drunk. The drunk man had clapped a hand to the Asian man’s back. Noticeably forcing the air out of the poor guy. The man glared at his drink as the drunk was talking his ear away. Not sure if to intervene yet. He had to admit he wouldn't be surprised if a fight broke out, he would have pulled out his Peacekeeper if the man had even gone as far as touch him. However, he could say he admired the man for keeping so much patience with the man. Fareeha was already headed their way, only stopped because a woman had pulled her aside for something.

 

A slam of the glass and two angry faces was enough. Letting out a sigh. The man was yelling incomprehensible things. He wasn't sure what set him off but he guessed it was the stranger’s uninterest and cold stare. Some people just didn't want to be disturbed. Thankfully though, he didn't yell so loud the other tables were disturbed. The music was loud enough to keep them at bay of what was going on. Sparing a glance in their direction. Turning back to look at the standing strangers.

 

“Hey! Back it up fellas.” Jesse quickly said as he rushed to the left side of the bar. Staying behind the counter in case one of them actually listened. The Asian man was a lot shorter but he sure packed some glares, eyes narrowing menacing enough. However, glaring has never won a fight and he didn't want to see the guy get beaten to a pulp. Of course, drunks like him never listened. Instead listening to whatever drunken ideas they had cooped up in their head.

 

He shoved the Asian man hard. It had caught him off guard, sending the man tumbling against the wall. “Shit. Hey! Keep yer’ hands off ‘em!” He jumped the counter, watching Fareeha calmly speed walk in their direction. Carrying an angry face, ready to start a fight. Though she obviously didn't want to draw attention to the already forming mess. Jesse got between them, preparing to fight. The man was only a head taller, he could take him on easily, but if he decided to let his weight drop into one hit he would certainly not stand much of a chance. The large man shoved him back, trying to reach for the stranger behind him. Jesse bumped into the Asian man behind him, listening to him groan softly. “Fuck sake.” He grumbled as he watched Fareeha stop behind him. She made a signal with her hand, stopping himself from nodding. Not wanting to let them on in any plan they had. He stared the man in the eyes.

 

Jesse jabbed his elbow into the man’s stomach, planting his feet as he tried to force him backwards. Just enough so Pharah could restrain him and—

 

Groaning as a glass broke over back, maybe the man was drunk enough that he couldn't coordinate a strong hit. Grateful he hadn't broke the glass over his head. Feeling his shirt begin to get drenched with cold liquor. Shuddering at the cold feeling against his back. A strong arm pushing him back into the stools. Groaning as his back hit the counter, that was not going to feel nice.

 

Fareeha trying to grab one of his arms, unable to put him in a proper hold. She wasn't in training uniform, they were in button-up shirts and slacks making it harder to move freely. He was trying to shake her off, trying to push her down into the ground. McCree watched as a glass broke on the side of the man's head. Sake drenching the drunk man.

 

His eyes raked down the hand that had broken the glass. The stranger. Grabbing the collar of the drunk’s shirt and yanking him forward, punching him square in the face. He swore he saw sparks of blue as he landed the hit.

 

With that, the man tumbled backwards. Fareeha restraining both of his arms, making him fall to his knees. Something glowed from the man, something blue from inside his jacket. The menacing cold glare stayed on his face as he stared down at the man. He looked up as the door opened.

 

Angela.

 

←→

 

The bar was closed for the rest of the day.

 

He groaned into his hands as Fareeha pressed an ice pack to his forming bruise. “I find out you're alive and **this** is how I find you both.” Angela shook her head in disbelief, opening her First Aid. Her ponytail tight, blues eyes focused. Wearing gloves as usual, she followed all her doctor habits. Even if he teased her about it. Jesse smiled loosely and shut his eyes. It hurt much more than he imagined it would. Not giving much thought to what she had said except for the accusing part.

 

“Not our fault he wus drunk.” Jesse replied as he picked up the ice pack on his knee. Placing it on the side of his torso. The brunette glanced at the Asian man, Angela was wrapping his hand in gauze. Fareeha chuckled quietly as she stared at the blond.

 

“Well I'm glad you didn't get anyone else hurt.” She looked up at the stranger “Thank you for helping them today.” Mercy said quietly and finished taking care of his hand. The stranger only nodded and glanced at Jesse. McCree smiled at him.

 

“Pretty handy with yer’ hands.” Jesse complimented and continued to press the ice pack to his side. Fareeha, however, puts the ice pack down patting his bare shoulder. Feeling a tad bit exposed since he was shirtless, but it wasn't the first time he wasn't wearing a shirt in front of the two. However, it was his first time in front of a stranger. The stranger gave a small smile and softened his gaze.

 

Angela stood up, patting down her flower patterned dress. “We’ll return. Don't pick at anything and keep the ice on the damaged areas.” Angela announced as she left the table, he turned to see Fareeha leading her away. Talking to Angela in quiet whispers as she walked beside her. Turning back to the stranger. He was leaning against a table, circling his wrist.

 

“You holdin’ on okay?” Jesse asked as he stood up, feeling the pain rise in the middle of his back. Suddenly feeling a little older than he should. The stranger looked up from his hand to meet Jesse’s gaze.

 

“Yes, I’m alright.” The man looked back down at his wrist, it didn't look swollen or out of place. So it probably bad sting.

 

“Y’know you would be a great fighter.” McCree said out of the blue, staring at the stranger. The stranger looked up, confused. “Y’know those famous boxers from back n’ the day? You could be one o’ them. You pack a hell of’a punch. Probably become famous too.” Jesse explained and kept the ice tucked under his arm, the stranger gave a half smile.

 

“Are you one?” The question was a little surprising. There was nothing that could make him ask that.

 

“Nah, more of’a retiring cowboy I guess.” Jesse chuckled and winced as his side ached. Wishing he had his serape and hat on, maybe even his cigar too. The stranger stood across from him, staring at the ice pack against his side. He had looked at the scars he had, the bullet and knife scars. Ones that even time couldn't get rid of. He didn't say anything but he could see the curiousness in his eyes.

 

Comfortable silence and staring fell over them. The stranger had a long tattoo on his left arm, a dragon. “A fan of dragons?” Jesse asked as he remembered Genji. The Japanese cyborg had a green dragon of his own, only coming out when he pulled out his sword. The stranger glanced at his arm, making an expression he couldn't read.

 

“The tattoo is just for tradition.” The man explained and rubbed his wrapped hand over the tattoo. Reading the body language as uncomfortable. He nodded and looked away from it.

 

“Well how was yer’ sake, before y’know.” Jesse drew away from the topic, watching the man ease up slightly. Still tense and uncomfortable.

 

“It was not bad…” The man perched up as he reached into his pocket. “I should pay for my damages, how much will the glass be?” The stranger asked as he drew out his wallet. This again.

 

“Don't worry 'bout it. You paid it with takin’ care of the guy.” Jesse lifted his metal hand to stop him. Holding in a groan from moving his arm.

 

“Allow me to at least pay for my beverages.”

 

“ 'n allow me to tell y’not to worry ‘bout it. It’s fine.” After a long pause and long stares the stranger put away his wallet.

 

“That is a terrible way to make business.” The stranger protested, Jesse grinned wide.

 

“They were only two glasses.” McCree argued back with a playful tone, watching the man raise an eyebrow. Opening his mouth to say something back when footsteps came from beside them. Angela and Fareeha. Smiling as they walked towards them.

 

“Well you two should be patched up now. Fareeha and I are going back to the apartment. Jesse, if anything happens, you have my number. Be safe you two.” She said as she packed her First Aid once more, stuffing it into her purse. Fareeha waving them goodbye. Jesse nodding to Angela as he waved goodbye to Fareeha. Watching the two leave out the front. He decided not to think of why they were leaving so fast, Angela had just arrived. Instead focusing on someone else.

 

The brunette turned to look at the smaller man. Seeing him turn his head, he was staring. “You gonna finish yer’ drink? Or do you wanna go for somethin’ better?”


	3. Archer

He said he'd stop but he found himself sitting on the same tall stool. Holding a cold glass. It was almost dawn. 

 

A month since the fall out. Sighing as he put down the glass to pour more liquor into it. He was sure he'd have a hangover tomorrow but he didn't find it in himself to care. Blinking the blurriness out of his eyes as he uncapped the bottle. Nearly empty. Glancing at the empty bottles of beer, his phone right beside them. Buzzing and flashing light to let him know someone was calling. Staring down at the stump where his arm should be, he had taken a break from his prosthetic. Staring at the recent scar, pink and irritated. He breathed shakily and hid his face in his hand. Shutting his eyes. Loud, bright memories clouded his mind. Laughter and tight embraces. Feeling the sorrow bubble up in his throat. Pressing his head to the counter, hiding his head under his arm. Wanting to shut out the memories. Breathing hotly against the countertop as he squeezed his eyes shut. There was no one around to make him stop. No one to talk about—

 

A chime echoed inside the bar. 

 

He knew that sound. The back door. 

 

He quickly stood up, grabbing his Peacekeeper from the cabinets behind the counter. Knocking over two empty beer bottles. Not caring to clean it up just yet. Besides, he always cleaned up the bottles in the morning so there was no rush.

 

Ignoring the pain in his back. Stumbling down the back corridor of the bar. Wiping his face with the sleeve of his sweater. Listening as his heart raced in his ears, the way he couldn't catch his breath fully. He glared at the wooden floor, giving himself a second. 

 

He opened the door. Rain poured into the cement ground, splashing onto his shoes. The alleyway dark and soaked, the silver trash bins drenched in rain. The light illuminated some of the street, when his eyes landed on  _ him _ . 

 

Frightened dark eyes stared back up at him.

 

“Stranger.” Jesse breathed as he blinked hard, trying to understand what he was seeing and if he had drunk too much. If he did, why was the stranger in his mind? His eyes trailed down. Blood soaked through the clothes. A bow in his left hand, arrows in his back inside a bag. It took him a minute to realize that one of his eyes was actually red and blood was starting to drop from his eyebrow. Realizing it was an urgent moment a little late. “Com’n.” 

 

McCree stepped aside as the soaking man walked into the hallway. Finding himself calmer than he should be. The stranger’s hair was down, tangled and drenched. “You got any bullet wounds?” Jesse asked as he looked back at the man, he was shivering and holding his left arm. He shook his head, following Jesse as he guided him into the open area. “ 'kay. I'll call Angela—”

 

“Wait.” The stranger grabbed his wrist, Jesse looked back at the man taken aback. “I would like to keep this private.” He looked about ready to topple over and bleed to death. He took a step closer, getting ready to catch him.

 

“Darlin’ I'm pretty sure 'm drunk 'n I won't be able to sew y’up.” Jesse stared at the stranger, if he moved closer he could see him better. Well better than blurred face details and a distant voice. But he could see the uncomfortableness in the man. 

 

“I will take my chances.” The stranger replied and loosened his grip on McCree’s wrist. Slowly drawing his hand away. 

 

“Yeah?” Jesse sighed and shook his head, glancing back at the counter. “Alright, I'll patch y’up. As long as you gimme a name. I don't feel like callin’ y’stranger all mornin’.” 

 

“Hanzo.”

 

←→

 

“Hol’ still.” Jesse ordered as he opened the First Aid, squinting at the knife wound. Didn't look too deep, nothing they should worry about. However the bruises scattered all over his torso didn’t look so great. There were a lot and all close to the centre of his chest. Not much of a friendly fight, he thought to himself.

 

“I am not moving.” Hanzo replied as he watched him begin to move the needle closer. They sat at the counter, Hanzo sitting on the counter while Jesse sat on one of the tall stools. The weaponry sitting on the stool beside him. 

 

“Y’know this was a shitty idea, right?” Jesse commented as he began to sew. He hadn't done it since his last job in Dorado and that was _really_ _long_ ago. 

 

“It is better that you do it.” Hanzo replied and twitched under the needle. McCree sat up as he swept his hair out of his face, glancing at the dragon tattoo. It seemed to cover a skull scar, he could tell it was a scar. The way the skin lifted in that shape. It almost looked like Deadeye. 

 

“I'm missin’ an arm 'n I'm drunk.” Jesse stared at Hanzo, the man looked calm about the matter. The guy probably has nothing to lose if he stitches him up wrong, Jesse thought as he stared at him. “For all I know I could be stitchin’ yer’ ass to yer’ arm n’ you wouldn't know or feel it through the pain.” What he didn't expect was a snort and then laughter. It confused him but made him break into a smile. It was weird to see a bloody man break into laughter that was genuine. 

 

“That's absurd. You do know I can still see, correct? I would have told you if you were doing that.” It was weird. Looking at such a beaten man smile, blood staining his lips. Jesse shook his head and smiled, closing up the wound. Unable to make much of the sight, the stranger was weird but interesting.

 

“You got terrible humour.” He cut the thread, cleaning the needle and putting away the materials. Watching as Hanzo wiped the blood from his eyebrow. “I can put sum’ bandages on y’after yer’ out of the shower. Then you can decide if you wanna tell me 'bout your little,” he waved a hand at the bow and arrows “ _ trip _ .” Hanzo nodded and closed his  _ gi _ . That's what the stranger said his get-up was called, deciding not to question his sense of fashion. Being a little traditional was never a bad thing. 

 

“Thank you, again, for the help.” Hanzo said as he stood up. Jesse nodded and closed the First Aid, getting up to guide the man. Tucking the First Aid under his arm.

 

“Warnin’ y’now, I might fall so watch out.” Jesse warned as he began to walk towards the stairs. Holding onto the railing tightly, slowly making his way up. 

 

“I will be cautious of you.” Hanzo replied as he trailed behind him. McCree swayed as he walked up the stairs, feeling drowsy and a little lightheaded. Jesse zipped up his sweater, running his hand through his hair. Finally reaching the top, flipping the switch to turn on the lights. His serape and hat hanging on the coat rack. A small wooden round table, just at the centre of the room. Cold coffee sitting atop the table. Curtains pulled apart, giving a view out to the city. Purple neon lights illuminated the inside of the room, the skies dark and loud with rain. Setting down the First Aid on the table. A small kitchen to the left, another bedroom. He guided him to a door, opening the door to an average bathroom. Not too big, not too small. Thankful he left it free of any mess. 

 

“You go on ‘n wash up. I'll getcha sum’ clothes.” McCree spoke quietly as he watched the man walk into the bathroom. Shivering and hugging himself. He caught sight of his legs. Prosthetics. He stopped, thinking if he should offer him help but then again he didn’t want to come off with the wrong idea. Also no wanting to belittle the man, he could probably handle himself but he also wasn't sure if he'd find his shower too accommodating with his needs. 

 

“I will be fine, you do not need to worry.” He blinked as he looked at Hanzo’s face. He had been staring. Shit. Probably worsening his case.

 

“Sorry about that sugar, didn’t mean to offend ya’.” Jesse quickly replied, feeling slightly ashamed. Probably the booze helping him feel a little less… 

 

Hanzo stared at him, no resentment visible on his face. “It’s alright. No harm was done.” Gazing at Jesse’s face. It made him feel like laughing, caught in such an odd scenario. Helping a stranger from who knows what type of fight, distracting himself from the memories fighting in his head. To top it all off, he was drunk and stuck with one arm to help him through it.

 

“Well I'll get y’that clothes.” McCree nodded awkwardly as he turned around, inhaling as he heard the door slowly shut. It made him chuckle, Gabriel would be yelling all sorts of things. Knowing this type of thing couldn't be any good, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Walking into the empty bedroom, grey-white walls with nothing to fill the empty spaces. It was his old room, now holding dusty cardboard boxes. Filled with memories he couldn't keep in his room anymore. 

 

Avoiding to look at them directly, knowing well his yearning would take him back inside them. Stopping in front of the wooden drawer, sweeping his fingers over the dust-covered top. His eyes landing on a frame turned face flat. Quickly averting his eyes as he opened the drawers. Grabbing some of his old clothing. Staring at his Blackwatch uniform, folded and untouched. Everything from that day was still on it. The scratches, the dirt, and blood. It still reeked of smoke, pieces of small broken cement stuck to it. Unable to look away. Reliving the day. Hearing the news over the comm. The smoke filling his lungs while he looked and looked. The cold in his hands. The dead—

 

“Jesse?” 

 

Blinking quickly as he broke away from the moment. Turning his head to see Hanzo, his hand on his arm. Red bruised knuckles. “Yeah? Sorry spaced out.” McCree smiled and felt the tenseness fall on his shoulders. “Anyway, here's the clothes. Should fit you a little big, but you'll be ‘kay.” Jesse pulled the clothes out, shutting the drawer. Hanzo carefully took the clothes, moving his hand away. Glancing away from his face to look at the clothes. 

 

“Thank you.” He glanced up at his face, his dark brown eyes focused and filled with something he couldn't read. At least not in the drunken haze. Jesse nodded as he watched the smaller man trail back into the bathroom. McCree drew his eyes away from the drenched hair, staring at the drawer. Looking down at the sweater. Exhaling shakily. Almost regretting not calling Angela, then again Angela would've seen right through him. He would have had to sit through a long lecture that he didn't have the energy for. He knew she was trying her best to help but sometimes it backfired on them both. 

 

He just had to hold it together until morning, he told himself. At least until he was alone again so he could find a better way to forget. For now, cigars and avoiding will do. He left the room, shutting the door behind himself. Sighing to himself as he went to sit at the small table. Resting his head in his hand. Staring at the black mug filled with black coffee. Bitter and cold. Glancing at the bathroom door, light on. Deciding he would take a while, he shut his eyes. He could take quick nap, he needed to be up early tomorrow. Listening as the sound of running water slowly faded.

 

Instead he listened to familiar voices as they spoke to him.

 

←→

 

He woke up with a jolt. 

 

Quickly looking around, it was morning. The blinds pulled together, only a stripe of sunlight creeping through. Sitting up, hearing something drop onto the wooden floor. Looking down to see his red serape had fallen from his shoulders. Turning his head, his phone vibrating. Looking to the side of it, a plastic bag with a note attached sat there. No mug of coffee, wondering where he left it last night.

 

He pulled the bag closer, squinting at the note. Hanzo. His memory jogged, remembering brief moments of the stranger. He was beaten up, but nothing else came to mind. He stared at the note. A thank you note and a few get well comments… How drunk did he get? His head pulsing as he turned the note over, a phone number. His back ached, unsure if it was from sleeping in a bad position again or from being shoved into the counter. On another note, he had to admit, the handwriting was neat and bold but the phone number was written lighter. ‘If you need my help’ was written beneath the number. Smiling to himself as he untied the bag. Soft drinks and sugary snacks. A lot were Asian but there were some American ones too. Interesting choices.

 

“Hello?” He answered the phone call buzzing on his screen. Pulling out the goods from the white plastic bag. 

 

“Jesse! Jesse, are you okay?” The sound of Mercy’s voice exited his phone speaker. Putting her on speaker as he looked inside the bag, setting the phone on the table. Suddenly in a mood to have a quick snack before getting to work and whatever Angela had for him. He grabbed a juice bottle. 

 

“Mornin’ to y’too Angie.” Jesse said as he tried to open the bottle with one hand. “M’alright. Just got a mighty bad headache.” The brunette added as he finally got the cap to budge, slowly loosening it up until it opened. “There a problem?” McCree asked as he began to add the number to his contacts. 

 

“Jesse, you didn’t answer your phone all night. The last text you sent was to Fareeha, you— she was— we were worried. I'm here, can you open the door?” He almost spit out his drink, he was not expecting that. That was not what he was expecting so early. He stripped off his sweater, grabbing his serape. 

 

“Yeah, I'll be down in a secon’.” Jesse hung up as he tugged on the serape. Hurrying to leave the sweater in the lonely room. Not giving it a second thought. He was still in his uniform. He had to stop sleeping on tables and in his uniform, he thought to himself as he took a sip from the sugary drink. It eased the gross taste in his mouth. He walked into the bathroom, brushing his teeth. He must reek of alcohol, the least he could do was wash it out of his mouth. 

 

He hurried down the stairs, holding the nearly empty bottle of juice. It tasted bad, having just brushed his teeth. But it helped ease his meeting with Angela. Squinting as he walked towards the main door, putting down the drink. The countertop was clean of any beers, no broken glass or blood. Slightly surprised there was none left out, if he drank he normally left out the bottles. Usually cleaning up in the morning. He glanced at his contacts list, Hanzo. He had to thank him for the little goodie bag and he also had to make sure he got patched up properly. 

 

Opening the door, glaring as the sunlight dawned on his face. There stood the blond woman. Exhaustion wore her face. She gave a weak smile as she held up a brown bag of food.

 

“C’mon in.” 

  
  


 

They sat on one of the round tables. She gave him the food, tucking a hair behind her ear as she stared at the brunette. She looked just as nervous about the talk as he was. It reminded him about the first time he was in her office, straight out of Deadlock. He had spit at her, it was embarrassing to remember but also a good reminder not to ever think of doing it again.

 

“Somethin’ happen? Besides y’know.” McCree asked as he left the food aside, staring at the blond. Not that the food didn't smell absolutely amazing, but she looked dreadful and that meant it would be a serious talk. Trying not to squint at her due to the light coming in from the windows. She reached for her hair again, frowning. Tucking another hair behind her ear. 

 

“Jesse,” She started and dropped her hand, staring at him “I want to talk to you about the…  _ fall out _ .” She reached up again, this time there was no strand of hair to sweep back. It began to fall on him that it was a habit. He recognized the body language. He'd seen it on Genji before, just before he would burst into all sorts of negative emotions. Usually before he burst into anger or anxiety. Though Genji would repeatedly clean his blade until he couldn't hold it in anymore. 

 

“Shoot.” Was all he said as he leaned forward the slightest bit. Giving her his attention. She glanced down at the tabletop, taking a deep breath before looking back up at him.

 

“We— I know it was hard for you to lose them, we all lost a lot that day. I am not saying your feelings don't matter I just want you to understand— we understand. I know I am not the best to talk to about emotional issues like these. But we know what it's like to lose friends, family. You don't have to resort to,” She glanced at the bottles on the shelf “I can help you find a place to talk about it if you don't want to talk to us about it. I just don't want to lose you to something like this. I know this takes time but it's better if we start sooner than later.” Jesse was sitting back at the interrogation table with Gabriel sitting across from him. Telling him it was for the best to be pulled away from Deadlock. It was the truth. Except this time he was trying to let go of something that formed him into something better, whether he liked to admit it or not. Blinking back sorrow. 

 

He opened his eyes to meet Jack and Gabriel sitting in front of him. Joined hands on the table, the way they slowly became something more than commanders. Staring at him with worry. The first time they shaped into caring figures for him. “Yeah, guess yer’ right.” Watching the memory fade away into the doctor. Looking just as worried as the two had. Angela sat up, resting her hands on the table as she bit her lip. Jesse offered a smile and felt the migraine die down, the pain from the sunlight drowned out. “Thanks for remindin’ me. Didn't mean to worry y’two.” McCree breathed quietly, he could use some air. Feeling it hot beneath the serape and uniform. 

 

Angela opened her mouth to say something but her phone rang. “Sorry, I have to take this.” She stood up as she pressed the phone to her ear walking away. He sighed as he pressed his forehead to his hand. He felt like he was holding his breath. It was getting to him, being in the bar for too long. Well that wasn't true, he just didn't want to sit around and talk about it. It didn't feel right.

 

Jesse went on his phone, opening a new chat. 

 

Tuning out the distinct chatter of Angela, instead watching as, not a minute later, a bubble with three dots appeared. 

 

**Hey archer**

 

**Greetings, cowboy.**

 

The simple nickname forced a small smile out of him. He hadn't been called that in such a long time. Maybe because he didn't get out of his uniform too much. 

 

**Thanks for the treats, think I**

**can repay you with a trip to**

**the cafe around the corner?**

 

He could use the time out to talk about what happened during his little drunk episode, what he found out about him. That and he could go out in clothes that wasn't his uniform. 

 

Besides all that, he wouldn't have to think about anything but the archer. 

 

**I will meet you there in 20**

**minutes.**

 

**See you there sugar**

 

He looked up from his phone to see Angela walking back to the table. Looking bothered and disappointed. “Jesse, I'm sorry to leave you so soon. Something came up.” She paused as she collected her purse, shutting her trench coat. “You can come with me and we can start the evaluation today. We would only have to do—”

 

“Angie, it's fine. Go n’ be a doctor. We can start tomorrow.” McCree stood up, offering the woman a smile. She made an uncertain expression so he placed his hand on her shoulder. “I'll be fine, doctor. You got other patients waitin’ for ya’.” Angela sighed but nodded, staring at him with tired eyes. 

 

“Just promise me you will be alright, or at least tell one of us if something is not alright.” Jesse nodded, placing his hand over his chest. 

 

“Promise.”


	4. Wrong

He sat uncomfortably on the metal chair. Sitting alone and waiting on the archer. Staring at his phone, scanning through his contacts. 

 

Maybe he knew he didn't want to be alone with liquor for a companion during such a time. Wanting to deny the fact, reflecting on how he ended up with Gabriel. Losing someone who was so close to him. It made his heart race. 

 

“Cowboy.” 

 

He looked in the direction of the quiet voice. Archer— Hanzo. His left hand wrapped in gauze. A few small bandages lay on his face but nothing seemed to distract him from Hanzo’s own face. Eyebrows creased as he sat across from him. 

 

“Archer. Didn't think you’d make it.” Jesse smiled and gazed at the Asian man, Hanzo looked at him. Feeling the nervousness bloom. He'd been on edge. Memories were steering him backwards. Back into—

 

“I apologize for my lateness, I was taking care of something.” Hanzo spoke in a cool tone, not giving him the cold stare that he had given him the first time they had met. At least that was something to work up on, an easy start. 

 

“Don't worry 'bout it.” Jesse slid the man the cold coffee he'd gotten him. Feeling himself warm up, he hadn't been so anxious ever since he was a teen. But it started to come around again, ever since the  _ happening _ . 

 

The icy coffee was better than the bitter black coffee he had the other day. “I got frappés, it’s somethin’ sugary.” Jesse shrugged as he took a sip of the  _ coffee _ . It tasted a lot like hot chocolate, milk, and crushed ice. 

 

“Thank you.” Hanzo drank from the green straw. Holding up the cold plastic cup. 

 

Putting down the coffee as he glanced around, people chatting as they took sips of their drinks. It wasn’t like his bar. Not the same old faces, the smell of liquor. Almost a little discomforting but only reminding him that he stuck around in the bar too much. “Did you want to speak of something?” Jesse turned to look at Hanzo, he had put down his coffee. Now both staring at each other. Feeling the uneasiness weigh in his chest. Almost wanting to spill out the words on his mind, needing to burst into a long talk of them with someone who didn't know. Just someone who had—

 

“Yeah, I wanted to ask y’what happened last night. I remember you, but y’weren’t lookin’ so pretty then.” Jesse finally said, averting his eyes. Glancing at the bandages and small cuts on him. An expression he couldn't read crossed Hanzo’s face. Quickly vanishing as he sat up. 

 

“You took me in on a rainy night and took care of me. I only returned the favour with recovery foods.” Hanzo explained as he glanced at his hand. Looking back up at Jesse after a pause. Allowing Jesse to nod and try to remember the events, coming up with nothing but fractions of blood and wet looks. “I have a question for you.” 

 

The brunette raised an eyebrow, interested. “Yeah?” Hanzo paused for a moment. 

 

“Would you like to go to an art museum?” McCree stared at the man in confusion. The mention made him think of Rialto, the art gallery. The start of fall out. He didn't let it get to him. Forcing down the memory. 

 

“Sure. Takin’ me on a date archer?” Jesse teased as he smiled, Hanzo only offered a smile with no further explanation. Standing up as he picked up the coffee. “We’re goin’ now?” Jesse questioned with surprise as he got to his feet. Hanzo nodded fixing his long strand of hair behind his ear. 

 

“Yes, the taxi is outside.” The brunette followed suit as Hanzo guided him out of the cafe shop. The warm sun dawning on them. The cement smooth beneath their shoes. Cars slowly passing by on the street, Omnics and humans passing by in crowds. There was a black taxi waiting for them. 

 

Hanzo opened the door to the backseat, allowing Jesse in first. The brunette caught a glimpse of the man before stepping into the taxi. A calm focused expression clouded his face. Hanzo soon sitting down beside him, holding the drink in one hand. Feeling his heart race.

 

←→

 

They'd walked around in what seemed like a long silence. Staring at some confusing but interesting pieces of art. Convinced they could've easily been done by some kid. 

 

Some pieces he had to stop and stare longer at, an odd feeling had built up in his chest since they had first arrived. A calming sensation mixing with an anxious feeling deep in his stomach.

 

Hanzo wasn't much taller than him, in fact, he was a lot shorter. It was his persona that he found interesting throughout the time of wandering around. He held his head up, looking interested in what he stared at. The strange sculptures and paintings that he didn't really understand. He wasn't sure why Hanzo invited him to such a place. 

 

He wasn't like Gabriel. Gabriel would've found himself bored in the art  _ pieces _ , making notes of how the art could have been made by a toddler. Maybe Gabriel influenced his own thoughts more than had originally thought. However, he found himself staring at paintings that reminded him of the very man. Some illustrated a ghost, rising from the depths of hell. It made him uneasy. Gabriel wasn't like that. No matter how he made things  **work** . It was never to do wrong. They were wrong— 

 

“Jesse.” He turned his head to look at Hanzo, they were standing in front of painting inspired by the Omnic crisis. A blond man in blue leading the rest of soldiers into war. Jack. He knew well Jack would have never liked to be known this way. The statue, the paintings. It sparked mixed negative emotions in him. As if he were listening to a lie.

 

“Yeah?” Jesse answered as he looked down at the shorter man. 

 

“Would you like to continue?” Jesse nodded, not giving much of a reply. Only glancing at the painting Jack stood in. He'd heard when Jack would talk to Gabriel. He had overheard many times, Gabriel kept him around a lot so it was bound to happen. The way he would fall into anxiety when his name was brought into public. The way he had reacted when the statue was first up. That day was the worst for them. He could remember the way he broke down without a care of who was watching, luckily for the three it was empty. Remembering how he walked into the bar, Gabriel was the first one to run towards him. He was reduced down to fast breathing and panicked calling out for the man, whispering things he couldn't make out that day. It was the first time he had actually witnessed it. He’d never seen him cry or look so afraid. He couldn't forget how they both looked. Gabriel looked worried and angry, he wasn't angry at Jack, he understood that. It made his chest ache. It made him want to put down the painting, he knew how Jack would feel to see himself in a place where everyone could see his face. Make him out to be a villain. He didn't want to see him— he didn't want to  _ think _ how he’d react to the painting.

 

The more they moved down the more he realized the paintings were inspired by the happenings of  _ Overwatch _ . Ana, Jack, and Gabriel. Behind them were the original soldiers of Overwatch.

 

People rioting against them. 

 

Another painting, this one simplistic reduced to flat colours and faint details. Four people dressed in black, bodies lying at their feet. He knew that one. Rialto, Gabriel had shot their target. Talon breaking loose and chasing after them. Staring at the painted character of himself, blood painted his uniform. Genji looked like a monster. Hunched over, more of a robot than human. Gabriel was bent over the bodies, smiling. While Moira held knives, she never had a weapon like that. They had it all wrong. 

 

“Perhaps we should continue to the garden art pieces.” The voice broke him out of his thoughts. Hanzo was staring at the painting. Expression neutral, he was looking for some sort of disgust on his face. Pinning him for some sort of cruel monster like the painting said he was. He was going to answer when he caught sight of another painting. Jack. Staring down at the crowds of people with a cold stare. Hatred and anger painting his face.

 

Another with Mercy, standing at the centre of a massacre. Unable to see her expression, almost too afraid to see what kind of face they gave her. What they saw her as. Reinhardt was almost the same Mercy, but his painting was black and white the only colour was red. Pharah and her old unit portrayed as villains, flying in the dark skies with explosions beneath them. Genji and his spirit dragon masked as cruel monsters. All shown with massacre and loss. Eyes landing on another portrait. Himself. 

 

“Jesse,” his heart racing “we have to go.” An arm around his back guided him away. Deadeye dripping down from the painting, the painting’s eyes following him. His mind raced as he saw Jack. Watching him fall apart, the anxiety of being known as a villain. The Gabriel he last saw stood there. His uniform dirty and dusted with cement. Cold and stiff. 

 

He couldn't bear it. 

 

“Jesse.” Warm hands grabbed his, firm hold. Trying to focus on the voice, it was wrong. “What's wrong?” Hearing mixed voices, too many familiar voices. His legs felt weak. Taking only a small glance up, Gabriel looming over him. The cold stare. Disappointment.

 

He was seated on a cushioned spot. Hands guiding him down slowly, cautious to let down his weight. The hands moved to the sides of his face. “Jesse.” He didn't look up. He couldn't stare at him. Not again. Feeling the familiar sensation of Deadeye. The sharp eye, responsible for— “Jesse, please, what's wrong?” Jack’s voice echoed in his head. He shut his eyes. Wanting to stay in the darkness, behind his closed eyes. He wanted it to be true. He did, he wanted them to be  **there** . Talk to  _ him _ . Tell him it wasn't true, they were  _ fine _ . 

 

He knew it was a lie. They weren't coming back. Even if they had somehow managed to cheat out of death. Something was going to hold them back from coming home. Coming back to him. To the remains of disaster. 

 

He opened his eyes. 

 

He ruined it. 

 

Everything hurt and felt sick. Trying to collect a pace for his breathing. Hanzo wiped his cheek, cupping his face as he stared at him with worry. Almost seeing Gabriel, taking only last breath before he spoke. “I was a’part of Blackwatch. The organization from Overwatch.” Feeling the numbness start to build in his chest. He knew it wouldn't end well between the archer and himself. No one would stick around with someone stuck with broken memories. The archer slowly removed his hands, staring up at the man. 

 

He was kneeling down in front of him. 

 

Taking a deep breath before he decided to talk again. “I know all of 'em painted on the portraits. It didn't ‘nd like that.” He turned his head to stare at the ground. Cobblestone, he glanced up to see they were in the tall gardens. Outdoors. He felt something weigh on his shoulders, seeing Hanzo without his jacket. Wearing a black T-shirt. The smoothness from the inside was somewhat calming. He continued to stay crouching in front of him, staring up at him with a look of sorrow. “Guess its still stuck to me.” Jesse laughed sadly as he watched the archer, clenching his jaw and looking away. 

 

“I know your pain.” The archer looking away from Jesse. “I lost someone dear to me. However, I am not like you. I am responsible for his death. I wrongly followed their words and killed him.” The archer breathed shakily and continued to look away. Anger and torment clouded his face. Jesse scooted down the bench, patting the space beside him. Hanzo looked up to see the open seat. Taking a seat down beside him.

 

“What was he like?” The brunette asked as he listened to his own heartbeat. Adrenaline still coursing through him. He cleaned his cheeks with the palm of his hand, glancing at the man. His face softened. 

 

“He was something I wasn't. He loved to talk and go out to have  _ fun _ . A free spirit. However, not so strong a fighter.” Hanzo explained as he kept his hands on lap. Breathing slowly as he stared at the ground. “He didn't care for the rules. It was something I wished I understood. He always had a way to make things better even if I thought they were wrong long ago. However, he died with hatred towards me. I am responsible for his hatred for me.” Hanzo cleared his throat and turned to look at Jesse. “What about you?”

 

Jesse smiled weakly as he stared at his hands. 

 

“Gabe was like a parent. Saved me n’ raised me. He was married to the blonde in the paintin’s, he was a lil’ hard to talk to but he still cared. Gabe was nothin’ like the paintin’. He could make himself into somethin’ else but he ain't a monster, it was because o’ the doctor. She made ‘em that… N’ Jack ain't like that. Jack’s a good man, he had a humour I miss.” Jesse chuckled softly as he remembered the way Jack joked, only getting a laugh from Gabriel or Lena. Getting mostly cringing reactions. “He hated being brought into the public…” Jesse trailed off as he glared at his hands.

 

“They sound like good  _ parents _ .” Hanzo’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. He looked up to meet Hanzo’s gaze. “I am sure they would be content with you, you have a kind heart.” Jesse offered a weak smile and looked at his face. 

 

“Maybe that fellow of yers’ doesn't hate y’anymore. Maybe he forgave you but you just can't hear it from so far up.” Hanzo gave a smile and shook his head.

 

“No, he wouldn't.”

 

“Just give it sum’ time. He sounds like the type of man to forgive. Probably don't like you pickin’ fights but 'm sure he can see past that.” A broken laugh left the man, then a tear rolling down his cheek. Smiling at the ground, wiping his face. 

 

“Perhaps.” 

 

Jesse pats his back, pressing his shoulder against his. The racing of his heart finally started to calm down into a steady rhythm. Turning his head to see no one. Grateful for the privacy of the long garden path. 

 

Watching as a couple passed the garden hall they were in. A blond and brunette. Turning his head back to Hanzo. Watching him slowly lean into his arm, tilting his head.

  
  
  


Instead of heading back to the bar, he stayed with Hanzo. They had soon left the museum and ended up walking around the shops nearby. Talking about comfortable memories and their own doings. He'd learned Hanzo was a skilled bounty hunter, making more money than he had originally expected the man to make. As well as being a skilled archer, apparently much more muscular than he had first anticipated. Only having just moved to America and staying in a small apartment. Old fashioned with the way he dressed during work. He could relate to  **_that_ ** , well, not only at work but  _ always _ . It was just a part of him. 

 

Jesse smiled as he drank the strawberry smoothie they had stopped to buy along their walk. Hanzo holding his own, walking beside the brunette. “Thanks. Thanks for bringin’ m’out here. It was great.” Jesse smiled and turned to Hanzo. The shorter man returned the grin and held his smoothie close.

 

“Thank you for the talk,  _ and help _ .” The man replied as he glanced forward, making sure they didn't walk into someone. 

 

“ ‘N for that too. Guess we just needed it, huh?” McCree watched as the golden glow of the sun poured onto Hanzo’s face. Making his eyes look caramel brown rather the normal dark brown. The dark circles beneath his eyes seemed to disappear with the shine of the sun. 

 

“I suppose we did.” He turned to look at McCree, the brunette looked away and gazed at the pink smoothie. Slowly starting to melt. His heart had stopped racing and his breathing calmed, but faint memories still scratched at his mind. He knew he wouldn't be able to get rid of them but it was better to stay at a calm level of stability than not. 

 

He looked up, the sun setting. The streets lights started to turn on. Including the fairy lights they had for decor, shops began to illuminate the sidewalks. Feeling a wave of comfort even in a day of racing hearts and tears. The corner of his mouth perking up into a half smile. 

 

“We should d’this more often.” Jesse said as he stared at the setting sun. 

 

“Go out to buy drinks or speak?” Hanzo asked as he watched him. 

 

“Both.” Jesse blinked and turned to look at him. Hanzo seemed to like the idea, a faint smile crossed his face. Nodding as he took a sip from the smoothie. 

 

“I agree.” He said in between drinking the smoothie down. Slowly the sky became dark. Car lights racing by, street lights and billboards brightening the way. 

 

Hanzo pulled his phone out of his pocket. Staring at something as he began to walk slower. Sighing to himself as he put it away. 

 

“Jesse, I have to go to  _ work _ . I can have you taken back to the bar before I go.” Jesse stopped walking and stood in front of him. A bounty. Hanzo stared up at the brunette, watching as his face returned to a neutral calm. His smoothie still in his hand.

 

“Will I see ya’ tomorrow archer?” McCree questioned as he felt his heart slowly pick up in pace. Not from anxiety. Something that warmed in his cheeks and made him smile. Hanzo looked a little surprised but gave that faint smile he'd come to appreciate.

 

“Of course.” The Asian man pulled his phone out again. Eyebrows creasing together as he read whatever he'd just gotten. Keeping it in his hand as he turned it off. When he was about to speak, a honk interrupted the man. Hanzo turned around to look at the black car. “They're here for you.” 

 

“You ain't comin’?” Jesse quickly asked as he stared at Hanzo. Watching the man, looking disappointed for a split second before the neutral expression returned to his face.

 

“No, my employer will be meeting me here.” Hanzo explained as he glanced at his wrapped hand. Quickly looking back at Jesse. 

 

“Tomorrow?” It took a moment before Hanzo realized what he meant. His expression going soft again. His expressions were discrete and hard to notice but a sharp eye could catch the tiny changes on his lips or eyes. 

 

“Tomorrow.” 

 

←→

 

He laid on his bed for once after a long while. Staring at the empty smoothie cup on the nightstand. 

 

Smiling to himself. 

 

Maybe it wasn't going to go so bad with the archer. Feeling his phone vibrate. Fishing it out of his pants. Texts from Fareeha and Hanzo. 

 

Opening Fareeha’s text. 

 

**Jesse are you okay?**

 

He replied to the text, glancing at his nightstand. Wondering what she would think of his day with the archer. Once he replied he opened Hanzo’s text. 

 

**Did you arrive home**

**alright?**

 

**Got home alright.**

**Make sure you get**

**home in 1 piece too**

 

Jesse felt warm in his flannel. He should probably dress out and get ready to go to bed. He couldn't keep the bar shut tomorrow, his regulars would probably let him hear it tomorrow for closing that day. That's when he realized he had a black sweatshirt on. Hanzo's. Staring at his phone as he contemplated telling the man. He must've noticed he had it, maybe he wanted it back but hadn't said anything. It smelled of cologne. 

 

**I plan on it. I'll be**

**offline during work.**

**Take care of the**

**jacket. See you**

**tomorrow.**


	5. The Moment We Fall

He waited as his phone rang. 

 

Sitting beneath a light as he stared at the bright screen. Wanting to talk to the archer, he hadn't seen him all day and he needed to talk to him. He hadn't seen him in two days to be exact. After talking to each other for a month, learning about one another they'd become just a little more comfortable talking. A  _ little _ meant being able to talk about the moments that continued to haunt them, even if they couldn't find themselves to say every detail. He finally worked up the nerve to talk to Hanzo about  _ it _ . Something completely new that had swept him off his feet when he had first heard it. 

 

“Jesse.” Hanzo greeted in the dark. Wrong time. Quickly taking in the details of the situation. Blood in his teeth and lips. “Is something the matter?” The archer asked as the phone suddenly moved angles. He was in a hurry, didn't seem like a struggle. He wouldn't answer when he was fighting… would he? 

 

“Han, where are ya’? I'll go help!” Jesse quickly got to his feet as he watched the feed. Scrambling to grab his boots. Where did he leave them?

 

“I am in London, Jesse. But thank you for the offer, I will manage.” Hanzo breathed as he pulled an arrow out of the pile he carried. “You called. Is there something the matter? It's…” he stopped, taking a glance at his phone. “Quite late in America.” Jesse settled back on the stool. Staring a little disappointed at the screen. So that's where Hanzo was.

 

“It ain't that important. What's goin’ on in yer’ mission that yer’ all beat up? Got a lot of blood in yer’ mouth sugar.” Jesse asked as he sat still, staring at the live recording of the archer. Unable to stop himself from worrying. The archer glanced down at the phone and pulled an arrow back. A touch of smugness clouded his features. He knew that look. Pride. 

 

“It is not mine. Someone had gotten too close and attempted to trap me.” Hanzo explained as he let the arrow go. He was sure he heard a faint thud in the distance. “I would still like to hear what you have got to say.” Hanzo added as he drew another arrow. Turning his head as he looked around. 

 

Jesse breathed quietly as he witnessed the man work. It wasn't their first time facetiming, but it was a first during a  _ mission _ and when Jesse felt like talking about something particular. They normally rambled on about anything they could, keeping each other company until one of them fell asleep first. So this was new. First time calling during a mission and calling about feelings. Feelings were usually in person and somewhere they could reach for each other if one broke.

 

“Y’remember I talked ‘bout some ol’ Overwatch soldiers?” Hanzo nodded and glanced at the camera. Taking the subject by surprised but changing his expression to a stern one. He was listening to him.

 

“Yes, what of them?” The archer asked softly as he grabbed the phone and moved quickly. Possibly moving down a roof.

 

“Well there's a guy in the news 'round ‘ere by the name Soldier: 76. He some sort of vigilante, don't cause much trouble. In fact he's after sum’ bad guys in Dorado or somethin’.” Jesse breathed, Hanzo stayed silent. Letting McCree continue as he drew another arrow.

 

“He ‘minds me of one of 'em. I just can't tell who. They caught a photo of him 'n he was carrying 'n Overwatch bag.” Jesse explained as he breathed deeply, trying to keep himself in a calm posture. Hanzo seemed to be surprised by the fact. Hanzo only knew about the fall out because Jesse told him so, otherwise he would have missed the fact. Hanzo having been outside the world of Overwatch and in his own.

 

“Perhaps they took the bag. The fighting skill can be developed anywhere with the right people. However if that is not the case, do you intend on searching for them?” Jesse swept his hair back and shrugged. Forgetting Hanzo wasn't sitting beside him and talking to him directly. 

 

“Dunno.” He had hoped it was Gabriel but he had gotten a glimpse of the skin and features of hair. It wasn't him. Gabriel would have curly hair, not flattened and straight. Not to mention Gabe was a lot tanner than the pale soldier he had seen. The body size also seemed off. Gabriel was larger, almost, he much more leg strength and about a head taller. The man with white hair seemed slimmer. His thoughts drifted away when he saw Hanzo moving. 

 

He coughed into his hand, blood stained the palm of his hand. “Hanzo!” 

 

The archer glanced at the camera. “I am alright. He must've hit harder than I thought.” The Asian man explained as he spit out the blood, using the back of his hand to clean his lips. Startling McCree but before he could say anything Hanzo continued. “Perhaps it is best to find him once you're comfortable seeing him. I know you are…  _ startled _ , by it. Give it time.” The archer slowed and settled somewhere where light drew on him. He looked beaten, more than he had anticipated. “You should rest McCree.” Hanzo whispered and stared at him— the camera. 

 

Jesse sighed as he slouched over the bar. He hadn't drank anything he wasn't supposed to and he was washed up, about ready to sleep. In a flannel, however, accompanied by blue jeans. Rather uncomfortable to sleep in. Along with a brown cowboy hat on his head, he missed the feeling of it.

 

“Can’t sleep. Haven't really slept.” Hanzo made a concerned face slowly covered by sternness. 

 

“How long?” 

 

“Lil’ less than a week.” Jesse averted his eyes to stare at his hands. The thought of the unknown Overwatch soldier had kept him awake at night. Wondering the who could lay behind that mask. Hoping it was someone he knew. Someone he knew—

 

“At least head to bed. I'll continue to call you until you sleep, if you wish.” Hanzo offered as he cleaned his face, moving his hands to tie his hair. 

 

“Dunno. Just ain't tired.” Jesse added and glanced at the time. It was morning. Hanzo got up, walking away from where he was. Watching streetlights pass by.

 

“I'm going to board the next plane, I will be in America soon. So we can speak more comfortably then.” Hanzo said as he moved from building to building, only huffing. Jesse nodded, deciding not to say anything of him returning so quickly. “Would you like to hear about my trip?” Jesse raised his head at the offer. He'd completely forgotten to ask. Quickly nodding as he watched the archer slip into a window. Watching as he filmed a warm looking apartment. Looking mostly empty. Catching a glimpse of some tall bottles.

 

“The flight reminded me of you. There was someone who wore a cowboy hat, he was a child but very much like you.” Hanzo smiled faintly at the memory. Jesse grinned at that. 

 

“Cowboy? Out n’ these days?” McCree commented as he gazed at Hanzo's face. The light inside the room illuminated his face better. Faint pink spread over his cheeks. Haze in his eyes. 

 

He had been drinking. His memory quickly catching on. The bottles. 

 

“I am just as surprised. However, they wore cow patterned chaps.” Hanzo added as he set the phone down. Taking off his gear and untying his hair. He looked surprisingly calm, too at peace. Maybe he wasn't fully drunk, maybe he was just a  _ little _ tipsy. “The alcohol here is not as good as yours. The martinis are a little bland.” Hanzo breathed and began to move out of frame. Leaving the phone to face towards a desk. His bow and arrows in frame. His jacket and shirt dropping onto the desk.

 

“That so? Y’flatter me darlin’.” Jesse sat uncomfortably, memories must've struck back for Hanzo to drink on the job. They'd talked about the drinking. He wasn't in a position to judge him, but he couldn't say it was the best solution. He toyed with his fingers, watching the feed as he listened to Hanzo rummage around the room he was in. “Han, y’okay?” The archer appeared back in the frame, only the bare of his back was shown. Scars. 

 

“Yes, I'm alright. I'll call you after I wash up.” He turned around, holding up his shirt to his chest. Jesse nodded and said his goodbyes. Watching the archer move. He was a tad bit slower and less focused. Maybe he was drunk enough, he had a lot of hits taken. 

 

McCree stared at the screen. Wondering if he should address it. Hanzo could easily close up if something went sideways, he'd seen him close off for days. Always returning with a bad  _ drop _ . But everytime he made the effort it helped for the  _ next time _ , giving him an idea of how to work it out slowly and patiently. 

 

**Fareeha, Im closin the**

**bar tomorrow**

 

The reply was immediate. A little surprising coming from her. 

 

**Is something the**

**matter Jesse? It’s**

**early morning.**

 

**You can talk to me**

 

**No nothings wrong**

**just making sure to**

**tell you. Im heading**

**out with someone**

 

He watched as she saw the text but took a minute to reply. The bubble with three dots appearing then disappearing. 

 

**The man, Hanzo?**

 

**Is it a date?**

 

She was not one to look much into his dating life. Perhaps when she was younger but not much now. That was new. Very  _ new _ . 

 

**No, hes just a friend**

 

**Well I'm here if you**

**need help with any-**

**thing. Good luck**

**with him. :)**

 

Jesse smiled faintly at the text. He'd told Fareeha about Hanzo. Ever since he'd became a regular at the bar. Asking for drinks, not always getting drunk beyond what he could handle. Sometimes sticking around to help, other times sticking around to talk to Jesse. She had easily caught up, eyeing him and talking to him a few times. He laid his head on his arm as he waited for Hanzo. Listening to the quiet creaks of the bar in the dark. Staring at his phone, deciding the man would take a while he gazed at his gallery. Photos of friends, places, home, and  _ him _ . They were recent and mixed. Some were blurry and taken quickly. Some others were secretly taken, where he knew he wasn't aware or at least it seemed like he wasn't aware. One where Hanzo staring at a restaurant menu, finishing up the soda they had bought that day. Some others Hanzo was aware and even offered a small smile. Those were few. The most was with them together, the only way he had gotten him to agree to pictures. 

  
  
  


He woke up with a knock. A rather startling knock. He opened his eyes to the wood of the countertop and the metal of his arm. His phone buzzing and dark. He stretched as he made out what the knock could've been and if he needed Peacekeeper so early? Glancing out to see the sun trying to creep in past the curtains. 

 

He got up, listening to the knocking. He began to walk towards the door. Glancing at the digital clock on the wall. Afternoon. He would've been surprised for sleeping for so long but he had done it in the past and he hadn't exactly slept in a while. It was valued rest.

 

Opening the door to see black hair. Eyes drawing just a little lower to see, Hanzo. 

 

“Howdy sugar ain't ya’ a sight for sore eyes.”

 

Missing the sight of his face, smiling to himself. Something latched onto him. 

 

He was drunk. 

 

“Han?” He stepped aside as he let him in. Another noticeable feature was that his hair was down, not the usual band to hold his hair up. As a matter of fact, there was a lot off about him.

 

The shorter man walked inside the bar, small cuts and bruises littered his face. He shut the door behind him, moving to stand beside him. Hanzo opened his mouth, trying to come up with words. It was visible in his face that he was trying to come up with words, the way his eyes moved. He was upset, the anger— mixed feelings covered his face. 

 

Instead what came out was a confused word in a language he didn't understand. He knew it couldn't have been much more than a word. That's how it started. 

 

“Hey, we can work this out.” Jesse cooed as he slowly paced himself, moving in front of him. Trying to guide him to sit. “Tell m’was wrong.” He knew it was the past and he knew exactly what was wrong but that was how he started to work things out. Piecing things together slowly and—

 

Hanzo hugged him. 

 

Arms tight, unable to hide the tremors in his hands. He felt his face against his chest, breathing warmly.

 

The brunette returned the embrace, feeling him breathe heavily. Resting his chin on his head, trying to give him what he'd need. Cautious of what he  _ needed _ . Things were different each time. The first time he wouldn't dare talk and when he did he left as soon as he could. Making himself unknown for days. Slowly appearing again, talking just a little more without breaking into distress and anger. Wanting to hide away. 

 

He stared down at him, listening to him break into murmurs. Almost like he were calling out in distress. He couldn't make out the words. Trying to inch closer somehow. Trying to—

 

“I'm a murderer Jesse.” 

 

It hit him too fast, unguarded and unprepared. “N— No sugar, we both know that ain't the case.” He kept his head in place. If he could only talk when facing his chest then he had to keep him there. The brunette having to keep him comfortable, just enough so they could talk. “You said it yer’ self. They made y’do it.” He’d heard more of the story. 'The Elders’ had commanded him to kill his brother. The people who held the honour of his family and his own life. Not wanting competition for the position of who would lead the clan for the better. Murderers who touched his thoughts and formed them into something else completely.  

 

He spoke in his first language, then breaking into English. “Who kills their brother simply for the approval of—” his hands tightened around his flannel. “I'm a mercenary J—”

 

“But those people ain't do nothin’ good. They got a damn good reason for bein’ on that list. Y’made a mistake. Y’were a kid. I did plenty killin’ I regret in my days…” Jesse watched as he remembered himself in Deadlock, taking innocent lives. Brought back by the shaky breath Hanzo took in. Holding him tighter, staring at the silky black hair. Somehow making him remember Jack and Gabriel in the very position, the day Jack had came in.

 

He fell quiet. Breathing was the only thing to be heard from him. Holding on tight as he listened. 

  
  


They stood there until the heavy breathing began to fade into controlled breathing. His hands still tight on his flannel, but the tenseness beginning to ease up. 

 

“Hey,” Jesse began as he moved a hand up to move Hanzo’s back “how’re we?” The brunette watched the man stay in place. Eyes moving. 

 

“Jesse,” Hanzo breathed as he drew away “I’m— I apologize. This is—” He was shutting him out. 

 

“Don't worry sugar. It happens to the best of us.” Jesse tried to ease him back, he knew if he took just one wrong step Hanzo would disappear for days and not come back unless Jesse was laying dead somewhere. Maybe, only coming back if Jesse decided to call him during a bad moment. Hanzo bit his lip, staring at Jesse. Eyes red and glassy.

 

“How 'bout we watch somethin’ and let the day run 's course? Get yer’ mind off o’ things.” Hanzo suddenly looked like he wanted to hold onto him again, just a brief second before returning to a dazed look. It made him wonder just how drunk he was. He knew Hanzo had a way of controlling his expressions but he didn't know just how good he was when he was drunk. 

 

“Okay.” Jesse offered a smile and settled a hand on his back. Guiding him to wash up. He looked exhausted, drunk, and like he wanted to burst into another round of breaking down. Thankfully, he could help with all three. He could let him run his course, after all of it he could sleep. 

 

While Hanzo washed up and changed into something that wasn't combat uniform, he put a film. Becoming suddenly aware he didn't watch TV often. As a matter of fact, he only had a few films stashed away in his bedroom. Hardly ever looked at if the dust had anything to say about it. The 'lounge’ room was once a meeting room for Blackwatch. It was relatively small, meant for four people and weaponry. Along with an absurdly big table. However, he changed that. Now it was no more than a room with places to sit and a TV. 

 

He grabbed a blanket, the man would probably fall asleep. Knowing he probably hasn't slept in a while either. 

 

Jesse walked back into the room, he'd fortunately bought snacks and a few foods so he was stocked. Could probably get the man to eat up a little and catch some shut eye, sounded like a plan. 

 

He turned off the lights so only the TV illuminated the room. Jesse moved back to stare at his work, seemed about done. “Jesse.” McCree turned around to look at the Asian man. 

 

He looked a little more alive than when he first came in. His hair tied and in a bun. “Lookin’ better sugar.” He complimented as he stepped aside to let Hanzo see the room. Hanzo gave his faint smile and glanced around the room. The room was mostly blank, the walls had a picture or two but that's all there was. Besides that was the large couch and an extra two seats, the TV, and a small coffee table. 

 

“What film will we be seeing?” Hanzo asked curiously as he moved towards the brown couch. Taking a seat on one side. 

 

“As far as I know, it's somethin’ 'bout samurais 'n cowboys.” Jesse shrugged and made his way to his spot. Only a seat away from Hanzo. 

  
  


It wasn't long before they were shoulder to shoulder and talking about other things that weren’t the film. Jesse laughed as he pressed a hand to his stomach. They had long forgotten the problems that plagued them. “Y’know it wouldn't be that bad.” Jesse breathed as he moved a hand to his hair. “Havin’ a dog can't be that bad. Probably shits everywhere but y’can train it. M’sure they can even save yer’ life or somethin’.” McCree added as he watched Hanzo raise an eyebrow. 

 

“A cat would be less troublesome. They're tidy creatures.” Hanzo countered as he stared up at him, McCree grinned at him. 

 

“But they ain't cuddly. They'll scratch ya’ and bite ya’. I pet plenty dogs 'n none have bitten me.”

 

“You have bribed them with food.” 

 

“N’ yer’ tellin’ me y’wouldn’t bribe a cat?” 

 

That seemed to throw Hanzo off. Making him break into a smile and look away thinking of an argument. 

 

“Gonna admit defeat sugar?” Hanzo grinned at him devilishly. 

 

“You wish, cowboy.” It took long but Hanzo was finally Hanzo again. At least, the Hanzo he had come to learn about. The one who wasn't deep in fights and alcohol. He was someone who can make a friendly argument and laugh about it. Something he'd come to appreciate. Not to mention he was discretely trying to kinder and closer. Something he'd also come to appreciate.

 

He reached over taking a chocolate from the small bowl. “Cats are small and easy to take care of. Not to mention they are quiet and can come to you when they want affection.” Hanzo jabbed as he gazed at the film. 

 

“Dogs can help y’if yer’ hurt. Don't reckon a cat has done that.” Hanzo thinks for a moment, finishing the chocolate. 

 

“I also don't suppose a dog has ever been a clean pet.” Hanzo repeated helplessly as he pressed his back against the couch. Jesse turned his head to look at the man. 

 

“Now we both know that ain't exactly fair.” Hanzo turned his head to face McCree’s, only inches away. 

 

“Is that so?” Staring at each other, trying to make hard playful glares. Ending up in laughter and nothing more than a smile. Jesse opened his eyes, the laughter slowly fading away. Staring at Hanzo as he laughed. It was much more reserved and quiet. Holding a hand to his mouth, pink brushing over his cheeks. It was a nice feeling. Knowing the man was more than just business and cold stares. 

 

Hanzo's eyes flickered up to meet his. Gazing into each other's eyes. Growing ever closer, just enough to hear him breathe. Jesse—

 

A ringing sound startled them backward. Hanzo quick to look away. Jesse inhaled as if he had held his breath. Sense finally returning as he looked for the source of the ringing. His phone. Blinking and buzzing. He took it from the blanket. A private number. He was about to answer when they hung up. A message appeared. Then another. 

 

**Jesse**

 

**I need your help.**


	6. How Did you Know?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter has been updated and this is the complete version. 
> 
> Notes: Any translation besides Spanish and English was translated by Google. If you have a better one, let me know.

His night— _morning_ was better than what he would've imagined. A night of pointless rambling and laughing at an old film. Said film was ignored half of the time, replaced by pointless chatter and absurd commentary. Too tired to actually mind what they said, finding even the most unamusing jokes funny. Appreciating the _good_ parts of it, one of which were— waking up to Hanzo’s head on his lap, asleep and without a care in the world. It was relaxing to see him so at peace, not dwelling on his troubles as he finished off a drunken episode. But all good things came to and end.

 

The text.

 

As well as having to open the bar…

 

At first he had suspected the text was a dream and no more than that, hoping it was a call from Overwatch and an advance to piece it back together. Seemed _too_ good to be true, and it **was** . It wasn't from Overwatch. It was from _someone_. Someone who he considered none of his business. When Blackwatch became exposed so did he, people contacted him and berated him. Saying all sorts of things he didn't want to hear, so he decided it was one of them. He thought he had managed to clear himself, having changed his phone. No longer wearing the Blackwatch uniform. Now only sticking to his red serape and cowboy getup.

 

On a lighter thought, there was Hanzo. His feelings were… _confusing_ . Ever since yesterday and the almost-kiss he began to question just how he saw the relationship between them. Hanzo was drunk and he was probably out of his mind but, Jesse _wasn't_ . Jesse was aware of what he was going to do. It felt wrong, but right? He wasn't sure how it felt, he was still trying to figure that out. Hanzo was a strong attractive guy, but he wasn't sure if he felt like he was in l— It made his feelings muddle up in his stomach. He hadn't been in a serious relationship since _before_ Blackwatch. Deadlock was all sorts of things, but it gave him **one** good thing. A nice man he dated for two months even if it soon went down, later going to small dates and quick sex dates. It was nothing serious. Nothing that made his stomach turn in confusion about what he felt. Nothing that made him think about that person more than he should. It was slowly coming to him—

 

Maybe he was confusing it for a friend. He was friends with Fareeha and Mercy but he sure as hell never tried to kiss them. Well, he wasn't much into them? Did that make sense? He liked men and women— maybe Hanzo was just a special friend? As in best-friend-special. Maybe he was just looking for comfort, maybe it was just one quick call and look for attention. He needed that, he wouldn’t hide that fact but…

 

Sighing to himself as he tried to think of what Gabriel would think. Gabriel was married. He would know the difference. He knew how to help with all sorts of things. This was just one of those moments, the man had helped him with these things in the past. Being a confused and angsty teenager meant he needed guidance, any and as much as he could get. Jack hardly helped with dating advice, too reserved to come up with anything useful. Not that he'd ever ask him, it took long to work up the comfort he had with Gabriel. But now, he didn't think the same. Almost wishing he had the chance to ask. To talk to said man.

 

He breathed, wiping the countertop with a washcloth. Glancing up to see Fareeha cleaning the small round tables, hanging up decorations for February. The bar once decorated for every holiday, Gabriel was just a big sap and in a holiday spirit. Jack, of course, would tag along and bring people from Overwatch to the bar to celebrate. They both seemed to elaborate on ways to celebrate for the holidays, ways to include everyone. Ease away from the world troubles. He could still remember their favourites. Jack loved Fourth of July, the fireworks and he got to make cookouts. It was a little cliché but the man just loved the damned grill. Gabriel loved Halloween the best, he went into costumes and all sorts of decorations. Not to mention giving out candies, he remembered when Gabriel even suggested to Genji that he should go out and ask for candy. He did the second year, wearing all black, only putting on some glowing devil horns Jesse had managed to find him. It was the most fun he'd seen him have, besides taking down the training bots in a training session. That day they only got a few candies, but Fareeha seemed to take pity on them and gave them a few more. Taking pity candy hadn't seemed so bad that day. Genji even went as far as to each one, usually sticking to his restricted diets. It was also a day he'd seen him smile, staring at Fareeha while she joked around. It was an easy day. No missions, no clouds of stress over their heads. It was calm.

 

“Are you okay Jesse?”

 

Fareeha was still washing over the last wooden table. Her hair swayed down, moving down to the right side of her face. The brunette looked down at the counter to see he had washed over the same spot in his daze. An overly wet spot had built up on the counter, embarrassed, he drew his hand away. “Yeah— yeah... Fareeha, I got a question.” Jesse said as he watched her straighten up, turning to look at him. “ 'is ‘bout lo— likin’ someone. Like, how’d y’know y’loved Angela?” The question seemed to confuse her at first. It made him embarrassed to ask but he needed guidance again and Gabriel— Gabriel wasn't around to help.

 

“Jesse— I—” She smiled and shook her head “I loved her since I met her back in the Overwatch Point. It was just, a connection we had at first glance. You know what they say about soulmates, just clicking at first sight.” She chuckled “She had my mark. But wouldn't you know? I remember you dating a man back in…” She trailed off as she walked towards him, poking the wet rag. He had seen Fareeha’s mark, it looked like two wings were scarred into her skin. The marks were never painful, everyone was born with a mark. He had his, well before he lost his arm. But he swore he'd seen his other arm try to form the scar again. Trying to calm the heat behind his cheeks.

 

It smelled of lemon. It was the fragrance of soap he had bought, the one Gabriel used to buy to clean around the bar. At first he hated it, who knew he'd come around to miss it. It drove him mad having to smell it the first time he worked in the bar, when the bar first opened. What was more surprising was that they still sold it, the shop was still around too. Somehow overjoyed to see it survived the crisis.

 

“Yeah, he wus d’fferent though. He ain't like him.” Jesse began and dropped his own wash cloth. Slowly the realization hit him he said _him_. Looking up to see Fareeha, her face brightened. He could see her mind creating the person. Dread and relief clouded him all at once.

 

“Is it that Japanese man, Hanzo?” Fareeha asked as she placed both hands on the counter. Smiling in reassurance and comfort, he never thought he'd see the day where she’d be the one parenting him. Jesse's face flushed pink, making him feel like a teenager all over again, staring down at the counter as he made up a confused smile. Looking up to see Gabriel, his office and the sweet smell of pan dulce. Coffee and bread sitting on his desk, his own mug was sitting in front of him. Gabriel tended to make them both coffee when they had these chats. Before the tiredness covered his eyes, before he had more than two scars on his face. He was calm, relaxed. A photograph of Jack and him sat on his desk. He was in his Blackwatch uniform. He had both arms, the soulmate marking on his arm where his tattoo was. The two dragons. A wave of comfort and nostalgia washed over him. Wanting to reach over and hug him but he couldn't move, stuck in a memory. He was satisfied with just seeing him— seeing him before— a crooked smile clouded his face.

 

“I ain’t sure.” He felt like asking him how he knew he loved Jack. Was he confused at first too? Or was Jesse confusing him for a friend? That's when he felt suddenly younger, those were his questions the day he had gone to his office that day. Feeling confused and anxious. It felt strange but calming. As if there wasn't any anxiety in him then, despite that day being one of his biggest worries. But it was like there was no death and there was no pressure to stay put and neutral. Like nothing happened.

 

“Listen kid, you won't know unless you try. Take him out somewhere, just **don't** take him to the bar. You have to be presentable—” The memory faded away as he saw Fareeha smiling at him. Reflexively, looking down to see the prosthetic metal arm.

 

“Ain't it too early to be datin’? After…”

 

“No. You need someone Jesse. Someone to talk to, from what you told me, he sounds like a good man for you. Why don't you invite him out? It's almost Valentine's Day.” Fareeha suggested as she grinned at him softly. Gazing at his eyes, Jesse stared back at her. Wondering if he should. Hanzo and him always went out to places, it would like that, right? But this time he’d be accompanied by the thought of _maybe_ being in love. Rubbing the palms of his hands on his face, trying to figure out what he felt exactly.

 

His phone buzzed, just before he could answer. He glanced down to see a text from Hanzo.

 

•••

 

He decided he'd stock up on cigars and some candies, it wouldn't hurt to be nice on February. He could stop by the graveyard, leave flowers and chocolates. He hoped, deep down the graves meant nothing more than cement with names carved into them and that they were alive. Maybe even visiting him, when he wasn't paying attention. He almost regretted that hopeful thought when he recalled his drunken times— well it didn't matter, it'd better they be alive and well than not have them around just not to see an embarrassing point in time. He ended up buying candles, flowers, one pack of cigars, chocolates, and cards. He knew Jack appreciated a meaningful card, he had a source that had told him so.

Fareeha reassured him that she'd watch the bar while he went out to buy a few things. Inhaling deeply as he started his walk back to the bar, he'd stop by the graveyard after the bar closed. He didn't want to risk Fareeha catching him in a dark thought. He’d avoided it as much as he could— he didn't want to add to the stress that already weighed on her shoulders. Didn't seem right. Looking up at the sky, it was dark and gloomy. Well it made sense, January had been bitter and cold. But he almost wished for something lighter, so he wouldn't have to look at the names engraved in stone with—

 

He blew out a puff of smoke as he pushed the door open to the bar. It was a quick walk when his mind was busy with overwhelming thoughts. Watching Fareeha as she stood behind the counter, cleaning the wood from any spilled beer. It was already busy with clients, some with partners and some alone with their drinks. Bustling with noise and chatter. Some sports playing on the TVs, nothing that he was interested in, well, as long as there wasn't anything that broke into a fight.

 

“Back!” He called out to Fareeha, she waved him a greeting as she took an order from a client on the stool. The client was an Omnic, as far as he was aware they didn't much drink anything. But he didn't dive into the thought, he was getting paid. Hair tied as she worked quickly, bottles of alcohol off the back shelf. He made his way behind the counter, setting the bag down behind the counter. Thankful he had left in his uniform, Fareeha patted his back as she quickly made her way out to attend the clients at the tables. Seeing them raise a hand to grab her attention. Rather busy for such a  _united_ month. Tying his hair as he smoked his cigar, moving to put up the ashtrays and complimentary peanuts. Fareeha had already put the ones on the outer tables.

 

Glancing up at the clients, busy drinking away from their glasses. Not bothering to make eye contact or even start up a conversation. It wasn't like he wanted either, finding himself enjoying the relative silence. Fareeha took orders as she walked between the tables, sweeping a hair strand behind her ear. The pink glittering decorations hanging over the windows and lights. Even a few customers seemed to notice them, smiling faintly or looking down at their drinks. Smiling to himself as he grabbed the dirty glasses. Moving them to the back to be washed.

 

Making himself busy by putting away any bottles that weren't in use. Cleaning them and the area around them, the heavy smell of alcohol and lemon clouded his nose. Something he worked around, or had just grown too used to to actually care.

 

He'd have to finish up the cigar soon, his clients were okay with him smoking on given occasion but he knew how annoying it could be to have smoke in your face. Besides that, the ashes were falling on the ground. A little annoying to clean up, but it was a price to pay for the easing taste of tobacco in his mouth. It had calmed his nerves in the past but then easily became a dull habit, not always curing the anxiety but helping his mouth keep busy and his hands stilled.

 

“Jesse.” The brunette turned around to see Hanzo. A smile formed on his face— something cradled in his arms. Or at least it looked it by the way he folded his arms. Surprised to see him so early. Three scratches over his cheek, dark eyes fixated on him. Giving him a quick look over. Hanzo had his hair tied, casual clothing on. Not uniform. No sign of struggle or blood. Well he was wearing a black hoodie, he'd check on that later. Moving onto his face, masked anxiety. It was worrying how well he could hide things but he'd come around to learn his various masks and emotions.

 

“Howdy.” He greeted as he waved at him, moving to his end. Hanzo moved towards the counter, keeping a hand over what he had tucked in his arm. It was black and furry on a closer look. Eyes drawing up to meet Hanzo’s, he looked startled. “Whatcha got for m’sugar?” Jesse questioned as he leaned against the counter. Trying to be cautious, figuring out what may be troubling the man. The Asian man moved his hand, out peeked a small face. A kitten. “Will ya’ look at that, ain't it a cutie.” Jesse grinned, resisting the urge to pet it. It mewled, making Hanzo glance around a little uneasy, no one looked over. Fareeha had shot a glance in their direction, probably checking for any unwanted clients. Offering Jesse a smile when she saw it was Hanzo, and a thumbs up in encouragement, he assumed. Sighing and turning to look at Hanzo. He was glancing at the windows and door. Was someone with him? No. Tailing?

 

Something was off. “Take it on upstairs. We'll see what we can do.” McCree offered as he watched Hanzo, wanting to say something. He couldn't mask his expressions when his anxiety was on the rise, he was more readable now. But the expression only encouraged the idea that he had unwanted company. Reaching for Peacekeeper inside the bar counter, glancing at Fareeha who shot him a questioning look. Hanzo nodded and began walking towards the staff hallway. Jesse took note on the body language and posture, Hanzo was slightly slouched with his head lowered. It could be because of the kitten but he had a feeling it was something else completely. Watching go up the stairs, leaving him to think. If it was a group, there wasn't a big chance they'd get away. Hanzo didn't look like he was carrying his bow or any sort of weapon. Fareeha didn't have her rocket launcher but in an indoors place… that didn't sound too good.

 

The music was low and easy to concentrate with. Something not so common around the bar, usually they but music that helped carry sorrow and let out the heavy thoughts that weighed on them. However, Fareeha encouraged a lighter mood. Something to help build easy and stable feelings. So he thought what the issue could be about. It didn't have to be someone tailing him, even if that's what it looked like, it could be something else completely. His body language was tight and tense, he could just be afraid of the little thing. Maybe scared of dropping it, that was normal. Or it could be something  _else_. Maybe he's  **anxious**  from just ideas or perhaps his mind was working him up. It wasn't the first time he witnessed him all boxy and shut in. It had become more common and almost readable when he came to him. What stayed the same was the options of how the anxiety could end up. He could ask, though, it was a slim chance of getting a straight answer. He beat around the bush until there wasn't any left, it eventually came down to admitting what was wrong. But he could always make a guess; the past. The past dwelled in them both, making itself known in their thoughts and memories. Pulling the worst from them.

 

Glancing around the bar, a man in the far back corner was staring at him. White hair and two scars. He couldn't see his eyes, he wore dark sunglasses. He would've said something about sunglasses indoors being redundant but then again, he wasn't one to judge. Not when he wore hats indoors. The man looked away, drinking his beer. It _seemed_ suspicious, keeping a mental tab on the character. He decided not to make much of it, drunk people tended to let their gazes wander for longer than the normal amount. At least, that's what he understood.

 

No one needed a drink, too busy drowning in the one they had to ask for another. He took the time to check on Hanzo.

 

**You ok there**

**sugarplum?**

 

**The kitten is hurt.**

**It’s missing a limb.**

 

He stared at the text for a minute. He wasn't a vet, if the cat was hurt he'd have to take it to a doctor. Maybe Angela knew a thing or two about tiny cats and missing limbs. If she knew about treating gorillas there could be an off chance she knew how to treat cats too.

 

**ill tell Angela, you**

**keep the little guy**

**alive**

 

He thought for a moment. Maybe Hanzo _needed_ to talk, maybe he  _didn’t_. If he asked he could get a cold cut-off or an invitation to talk and help. Thinking about testing the waters; thinking of ways to ease into the problem. Coming up blank. Then again it could be a problem like someone following him. That could easily be taken care of. The suspense and revolving questions started to get him dizzy and frustrated.

 

**I will.**

 

**You hanging on ok?**

 

Waiting for a text, but didn't get it as fast as he expected. It took longer than he imagined it would, convincing himself he was just taking care of the kitten. Texting Angela about the cat, of course, she told him she wasn't a vet but she'd come and try her best. Something he appreciated about her.

 

**What do you mean?**

**He is a kitten, I will be**

**fine.**

 

Glancing up from his phone, a girl with purple hair walked into the bar. Wearing tight black pants with holes in them and a white shirt with a purple skull. Taking a seat on one of the unoccupied stools. Setting his phone in his pocket, “What’ll be?” He asked as he stared at her. Her hair tied into a bun, purple eye shadow beneath her eyes. Making a mental note that she really loved the colour purple. It just happened to stick out from the rest of the crowd.

 

“Tequila.” She replied and gave him a smile, looking around once Jesse nodded and move to grab the glass bottle. “Seco.” She added as she looked at her nails, one side trimmed while the other hand had long purple nails. Okay, it was starting to reach an exaggeration point. Her nails reminded him of Moira, her hands were weird. Purple on one side, almost as if they were dead. He poured her the tequila and put the small glass in front of her. “Gracias cariño.”

 

“Sure.” He replied awkwardly as he moved away to put the tequila back on the shelf. Pulling his phone out to stare at the texts. He had to hurry on up and make sure Hanzo was keeping up okay. If he was scared of the kitten who knew how he'd do trying to keep the small cat alive.

 

**It’s in pain. I bor-**

**rowed your serape.**

 

**I don't think I can**

**patch him up. He is**

**too small.**

 

Jesse raised an eyebrow, amused. Trying to think of a response. Just as he began to type, Fareeha walked up to the counter. “Two beers, cold.” She breathed as she leaned against the counter. Jesse nodded and tucked his phone in his back pocket. Feeling eyes on him, he glanced to the side. The girl in all sorts of purples was watching him but she wasn't the only one. The other man that had the shades, was staring at him too. Starting to feel a little odd, he focused on Fareeha. He'd tell her to keep an eye on both.

 

He grabbed two beers, feeling the cold wet bottles in his hand. He set them down on the counter, drying them off as he removed the caps. “Fareeha, can y’watch the counter. I gotta go check on 'em, Angela’s comin’ 'n a few minutes too.” She looked worried as soon as he mentioned Angela, he could already see the question forming in her mind. “He's ok, just gotta check up on somethin’.” Jesse explained briefly as he handed her the beers, she nodded.

 

“Of course. I'll tell her to head up when I see her. Call me if you need anything.” She added as she went to drop off the drinks, an Omnic and a redhead woman. Talking with one another, smiling. Turning to look at Fareeha as she set down the bottles of beer. Something in him ached.

 

He broke free of the lingering stare he was giving, focusing his thoughts on something—  _anything_ else. Eyes falling to the plastic bag. Hearing the familiar voice of—

 

He shut his eyes and exhaled. Gripping the counter with one hand. Opening his eyes to meet Fareeha, walking towards him in calm strides. Her expression was loose and unreadable, what he could understand as some worry she carried for him. He decided not to make any more thoughts visible on his face. He had to be composed, he instructed— to himself— moving out from behind the counter. Taking the bag with him, he needed to smoke or drink a beer. He knew he couldn't trust himself with alcohol but it would get him through the day faster. He needed something to push him by. Fareeha went behind the counter, offering Jesse a thoughtful smile. She could already see him starting to slip up.

 

Jesse nodded a thank you and headed up the stairs. Trying to collect himself before he could help Hanzo, he knew he couldn't help if he started to fall apart now. His steps slowing on the stairs, almost as if his legs weighed too much to even lift them. Cornering himself in his mind, thoughts chased him. He didn't think today would be one of those days, he knew it hurt to remember them but— it didn't usually— he was lying. He knew whenever they came to mind there was always some sort of change in him. Whether he admitted it or not.

 

“How ya’ holdin’ up?” McCree asked as he distracted himself. Hanzo looked relaxed, still a little tense around his shoulders but otherwise calm. He could still read him, even with the sweater on. The man looked up from the floor, holding the kitten. He was sitting on the ground, clutching the kitten to his stomach so it wouldn’t fall off his lap. His gaze soften, expression melting into something warm. He would've eased into the smile and soft state but his mind wouldn't let him.

 

He sat the bag on the small table as he knelt down beside him, the kitten was drinking away at the small baby bottle Hanzo was feeding him from. He hadn't seen that on him when he came in. Staring up at them both. “I managed to draw his pain away by feeding him some milk, I hope you do not mind, I used some—”

 

“I don’ mind. 'least he's feelin’ a lil’ better.” Jesse breathed and stared down at the fuzzy cat. The missing limb was a sealed scar, must have lost it long before Hanzo found him. There was a scratch on it's other leg, not caring now that he had something to eat.

 

“Are you feeling alright?” Jesse avoided looking at him, whenever he looked at him he managed to spill what he was trying to hold in. Not that it didn't help but it just didn't seem about right. Something was off, he just wasn't sure what. Of course, he knew it was about— but there was more to it.

 

“Shouldn't I be askin’ y’that?” Jesse asked as he stroked the cat’s ear. Soft. It was a contrast to the roughness of his fingers.

 

“I am fine— I was just a little  _worried_ someone had followed me. I had appeared to be wrong, thankfully. They had just taken a similar route.” Hanzo answered and stared at him, well, he felt him staring. Silence clouded them. Soon understanding Hanzo was waiting on him. He looked away from the kitten to lock eyes with Hanzo. The man was patient, gazing at him. Not making a move to pressure him into answering.

 

“ 'm okay,” Hanzo gave him a look, obviously not believing him “Just thinkin’ ‘bout some things. Nothin’ I haven’ thought 'bout before.” McCree sighed and watched Hanzo’s face work, eyes narrowing as he thought. Slowly relaxing when he came across an idea. It made him feel a touch too exposed but it also reminded him of his relationship with Ana. She easily read him. She knew everything he thought whether he said it or not. It made him confused, unsure if to smile or frown about the memory. Ana was out there, alive, but not returning.

 

Arms enveloped him, making him tumble down to his knees. Holding onto the soft black hoodie, the soft cotton feeling familiar in his fingers. He squeezed his eyes shut. The body shape wasn't nearly the same but Hanzo was a comforting thought alone. The man was warm and holding him tightly.

 

Not  _him_ — but  **Hanzo**. Only starting to realize that he had been comforted through him, rather than the idea of—

 

Opening his eyes to stare at the shut bedroom door. Staring for a little longer before he stared at the ground. The strong arms were a comfort even through the hoodie, the smell of cinnamon and a flowery scent— he couldn't put his finger on it. It smelled familiar though, like he had smelled it before.

 

“What has been troubling you, McCree?” Hanzo's voice was soft and almost delicate, careful and thoughtful. Feeling the man rest his chin on his shoulder, Jesse doing the same.

 

“Just the same ol’ thing. But it's cus’ this 's— 's d’fferent. 'm finally gonna go see 'm.” The words made Hanzo pull away quickly but smoothly, staring at Jesse with wide eyes. Sitting facing him, hands still on him. It made his heart race in interest. Mentally cursing, now wasn't the time to be thinking those things.

 

“That is a big step— do you need me— do you need someone to accompany you? It is rather painful to…” Hanzo’s eyes averted for a second, as if he understood. Like he had visited his own ghosts. Quickly looking back at Jesse, the kitten lay asleep with the bottle to its side.

 

Jesse breathed and shrugged slightly, staring at his face. He felt like he was about to make some big mistake. “I dunno. Yeah, I 'ppreciate it.” Jesse offered a smile and glanced down. “But I don’ wanna bother ya’ w—”

 

“No! No, not at all. This is  **important**  McCree, this is not like one of my  _tasks_. This is something fragile and something that belongs to  _you_.” Hanzo paused and stared at him for a long while. “It would be an honour to help you meet them once more.”

 

“Spirits are something we pray to, in hopes they give us guidance and protection. Perhaps they will grant you this.” Hanzo added as he looked aside thoughtfully, he began to wonder if Hanzo was religious. He knew Gabriel was, but just  _distantly_. Spirits. He never much thought about that. He never gave the idea of spirits existing much room in his mind. Peaceful spirits giving him guidance and protection, it sounded interesting. Jesse stared at Hanzo and smiled.

 

“Yeah maybe.” Watching Hanzo’s eyes gleam in the sunlight coming through the window. He never realized how grey and brown his eyes seemed. “Guess we’ll just have ta’ find out.” Hanzo returned the smile, reassurance covered his features. A hopeful look he remembered, when Hanzo comforted him out of the blues that ate him away. It felt calming—

 

The sound of a knock startled them both. Hanzo quickly drawing his hand off Jesse's back, turning to look in the direction of the knock. Forming a glare, McCree turned to find the doctor— Angela. “Hallo,” She paused as she began to make her way up the stairs “Sorry to interrupt. I heard you needed my assistance.” She smiled faintly, holding a white bag. Wearing an orange dress with a black belt. He almost wondered why she wasn't carrying her staff until he remembered what time it was and where he was. Hanzo cradled the cat as he stood up, his expression changing to something more neutral, seeing it was only the doctor. No threat to ward off.

 

She glanced up at his face before moving closer. “Super.” She whispered as her face brightened “I can work quickly, what have you fed it?” The blond asked and settled the bag on the table. Her black heels lightly tapping against the wood.

 

Jesse looked at Hanzo, he was looking at Jesse. As if he were waiting for him to reply. “Milk from the carton.”

 

“Verflucht.” She whispered and opened the bag, pulling out a white mat. “Okay, place it here. Athena.” She began, Jesse watched the two work on the kitten. Hanzo only glancing back at Jesse before Angela called for his attention. Explaining what she was going to work on and how. Awkwardly stepping out of the room, back into the stairs. Making sure to not distract them from the kitten. Breathing in quietly as he made his way into the hallway. Rubbing his hands over his face, he wanted to get the day over with and tuck himself away in bed. Maybe smoke a few cigars, drink a few beers, and listen to some music. He hadn't done taken a break like that in a long while. Catching sight of Fareeha. Working quickly as two large groups of people made their way into the bar. Shit.

 

He hurried to go help, forgetting about his longing thought to stay in bed. “Fareeha— y’gimme the beers n’ I’ll deliver 'em.” He instructed as he began to pick up a round silver tray. Before she could protest he collected the drinks, carrying them with ease.

 

“Two beers and one martini to the table at the far right corner. Vodka to the middle left, two shots of tequila to the center.” He looked at the first order, the man in sunglasses. He breathed quietly and left to go give them their drinks. Moving as quickly and as careful as he could between the tables. Next to him was a woman he hadn't seen, probably blocked off by another client. She wore glasses, one lense darkened. She wore a dark blue scarf over her head. Not staring for too long, glancing at the man. He wore a leather black jacket and blues jeans. Seemed normal enough. Maybe they were war veterans. Overcome with respect for them, maybe they served in the Omnic Crisis. He couldn't recognize the faces, but he knew they were soldiers. Both of their hands said so, they were rough in the areas a gun would rest. Well, everyone he knew who handled a gun had the common rough spots in their palms. The scars were just one of the things that added to the thought.

 

“Here y’are. Two beers and a martini.” Jesse placed down the drinks, looking at the two. The woman nodded him a thank you and took the martini.

 

“Jesse McCree.” The man read his name, it was common for clients to call him by his name. So he didn't find himself startled by it. “Weren't you in the news?” Anxiety washed over him. Biting his lip before he could come up with a controlled response. The man suddenly looked like he regretted asking.

 

“Nah, get that a lot though. Wonder why.” Jesse lied as he took a step back, the man nodded thoughtfully looking down at his drinks. The woman had only glanced at him as she held her drink. “ 'njoy yer’ drinks.” He added and left the two, making sure not to look back. He couldn’t start up any suspicions. No one had recognized him, why now? He wasn't trying to look any different or trying to hide himself. But it was still…

 

No one had recognized him when opened up the bar again. His mind began to fill with worry as he thought. There was a chance they might bring him in, he was still a bounty. Clenching his jaw as he focused on putting down the alcohol on the tables they belonged to. It wasn't the biggest worry on his mind, what he wondered was what type of danger it could bring to those around him. Angela, Fareeha, and Hanzo. Hanzo was a powerful man, probably more than he knew about but they could hunt for blind spots. Just as they could with Angela and Fareeha. He glanced back. They were watching him.

 

 •••

 

Jesse breathed softly as he checked his Peacekeeper. Sliding in the bullets, feeling the uneasiness in his chest. A new cigar between his lips, glaring at the scratched metal. Glancing over his shoulder, paranoid at every creak.

 

The kitten fast asleep in it's cardboard box, two blankets inside to meet it warm and comfortable. Patched up and set to walk whenever it pleased. Angela had said she'd provide a prosthetic once it was big enough to have one. It was too small to have one at the time.

 

He blew out a puff of smoke, returning to his gun. Glancing at the plastic bag resting on the table. The candy boxes sticking out of the bag opening. Holding up the gun, it felt like it belonged there. So used to the shape of it in his palm. Reminding him of the days in Blackwatch, Talon chasing after them. Running besides Genji, all out of bullets.

 

“Ahem,” A soft noise drew him from Peacekeeper in his hand, turning to look “Are you ready to go?” Hanzo moved up the stairs, a blue backpack clung to his broad shoulders. Wearing a tight short sleeved shirt, along with an unzipped black jacket. Muscles pressing against the thin shirt, making him look away. Feeling the blush form on his face.

 

“Yeah, gimme a sec.” Jesse blew out another puff of smoke. Taking the gifts out of the plastic bag, he needed to make it look  **decent**  . Better than decent. It was the least he could do. Taking the coiled string from beside the bag. Glancing at the flowers, it was a large variety, he felt the need to get them all sorts of flowers. Unsure of which they would— _would've_ liked more.

 

Hanzo reached Jesse, standing beside him as he gazed down at the flowers he held. “They look lovely.” Hanzo commented as he watched him try to make two groups of flowers. Struggling to combine and match the colours.

 

“They ain't so pretty like this…” Jesse huffed and stared at the piles, grimacing at how mismatched the colours were.

 

“Perhaps I can help, if I can.” Hanzo turned his head to Jesse, asking for permission. The brunette nodded and let him work. Hanzo began to separate them by tones, gathering them by warm and cooler colours. Making two piles, one with cooler colours while the other had warmer colours. Neatly tying ribbons around the small bouquets, setting them down as he glanced at the gifts.

 

“Thanks honey bee.” Jesse mumbled as he placed down the bouquets with the corresponding gifts and cards. It made him breathe a little painfully, like he had just realized they were—

 

A warm hand settled on his shoulder. Pulling him out of any wandering thoughts. Jesse glanced at the extra box of chocolates left in the plastic bag. Rubbing a hand on the back of his neck. Silence crowded the room, feeling it too tight—

 

“Let's start movin’.” Jesse broke the silence, grabbing his own bag. Collecting the gifts and gently setting them inside, keep the flowers wrapped in the plastic he had bought them in. Placing his gun in one of the front pockets.

 

“Should I have packed my bow and quiver?” Hanzo asked quietly and glanced at his own bag. Jesse paused a moment, he'd seen the bow. It was pretty large in size, hard to hide if he carried it around.

 

“N—no. Just had sum’ suspicions 'bout a man 'n the bar today. Just tryn’a be safe.” Jesse explained as he shut the backpack, all set. Checking his own clothing, it was appropriate. Nothing bright or flashy, just a neutral dark. “Ask me if he’d seen m’in the news. He recognised m’from Blackwatch.” The brunette added, putting on the backpack. Taking his serape from the chair, wrapping it around himself. Slipping on his cowboy hat. He needed a drink to help him through the night, he complained in his mind. Thinking about the beer in the shelf downstairs.

 

“Was he posing a threat? I can help you.” Hanzo offered carefully, eyeing the cowboy. Jesse shook his head, moving to turn towards the shorter man.

 

“Nah, he ain't nothin’ but a client for the bar. He wus just curious.” Jesse inhaled the tobacco, looking down at the Japanese man. His dark eyes fixated on his own. “Let's go.”

  


The walk was relatively quiet. Given it was dark out and only a few cars passed down an empty street. They seemed to be the only strangers walking at the time, seeing no more than some shops with the lights on. Only a person or two inside. Hanzo keeping a respectful silence, occasionally glancing at him but nothing accompanied the glances. Instead they listened to the sound of their own footsteps and the sounds of the city. It was a little strange to hear the birds chirping at night. However, he found it comforting and interesting.

 

Hanzo stopped first.

 

The cemetery.

 

Sorrow weighed on his shoulders as he stared at the metal gates. A sinking sensation clouded him as his eyes landed on the chained lock. “Do you know how to climb walls?” Hanzo asked as he looked up the brick wall. Confusion hit him quicker than he could process the question.

 

“What? I—No— I didn’ come dressed to be jumpin’ walls sugar.” Jesse said as he watched him move closer, glancing around. Bewilderment filled the cowboy as he stared at the sampler man.

 

And he was off, swiftly climbing the brick wall like he'd done it millions of times before. Before Jesse could even protest to try and stop him he was on the other side. “Han—” he moved to the gate, watching Hanzo as he prepared to break the lock with his bare arm. “Wait that ain't—” faint blue sparked from his left hand as he broke the chain. Tugging open the doors. Standing there, dumbfounded.

 

“I would have pick-locked it, but I unfortunately forgot my equipment.” Hanzo quickly murmured as he stepped aside, letting Jesse in. The brunette moved quickly, shutting the gates and keeping the broken chain on the gates, making it seem as if nothing happened.

 

“Ain't y’hurt? That was metal!” Jesse whisper yelled as he stared at the man with surprise. Hanzo only glanced at his arm, looking as if he had only broken a twig.

 

“I will be fine. The least it will do is bruise. Now let's be on our way.” Hanzo said as he looked at the cement path, trimmed green grass at its sides. Holographic titles brightened the way, the holograms were a biography of the person. More information that couldn't be put on the stone tombstone. He bit his lip as he began walking, avoiding to step on anyone's  _space_. Staying solely on the concrete path, Hanzo closely behind.

 

The tall trees seemed so luminous in the dark. Some tombstones already had Valentine's day gifts, blooming flowers that were closed during the night. Ribbons, chimes, and veladoras were set on the grass. The picture of the Virgin Mary printed onto them, some had blank glass with writing on them. His mind started to draw tried to make up what he needed around the bar. He continued to stare, feeling the dread build up in his chest.

 

Photos leaning against the cement, candy bags left there. He hadn't come to visit the graves until now. Wondering just how plain they could be, dirty and untreated they were. There was a stop. He stopped to look at Hanzo, at his side, he was looking at him. Looking in the direction Hanzo was facing, he was looking at a three way sign. Soldiers, civilians, and Overwatch. Why were they separate? Anxiety on the rise as he thought about what they could've done to the graves. Remembering the day at the museum, wondering just what kind of things they could've done. His mind raced. “If you are not ready to see them, we can come another time.” Hanzo whispered and stood beside him, Jesse glared at the ground. Nodding quietly as he chewed on the cigar, almost finished.

 

“I can— 'm fine.” Jesse said as he began walking. Hanzo following beside him, the path looked clean and like any other. His mind began to fill with ideas of what they could've done. Just how much hate did they hold for them? Feeling pale with nausea, he looked down at his boots. Unable to focus— distract himself on them. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, knowing he wouldn't have a steady hold on anything with them.

 

The floor began to change, now instead of grass there was concrete. The path they were walking on was marble. Looking up slowly, the terror in his heart began to race.

 

He looked up.

 

There was what seemed to be a small house. Aisles of names from the people serving Overwatch. It was clean and the golden plaques aligned on the walls. However there was one black wall with blue and silver outlinings. Ana Amari, Angela Ziegler, John 'Jack’ Morrison, Reinhardt Wilhelm, and Torbjörn Lindholm. The original Overwatch team. Lena’s name was missing. Where was she? He looked beside it, there was red and black. Blackwatch. Gabriel, Genji’s name missing there was only a photograph of him in his Blackwatch armour. Eyes drawing down his name and Moira’s. He stepped backward.

 

“いいんだよ .” The whisper was close and quiet, drawing him back to reality. He turned to look at Hanzo. “Take your time.” The man nodded as he focused on him, Jesse uneasily stared at his own plaque. He pressed the button besides Gabriel’s plaque. Staring at his biography, the words slipping his mind. Staring at the photos that accompanied the muddled words, the photograph of his wedding with Jack. His breath hitching as he stared, scrolling down the hologram. Glaring at the photo of hooded Genji and himself, holding back painful tears. Genji’s face covered by his metal plate and the black hoodie. But he knew exactly who that was and what day that was taken. Taking in a shaky breath as he continued to scroll down, photos of him with the Overwatch team. Photos of the Blackwatch team. His eyes fixating on the man, as if he were staring back at him. Jesse pressed the button again, shutting off the hologram. Taking the cigar out of his mouth and pressed it into the ashtray above the trash bin, tucked away in the corner of the entrance. He pressed the button on Jack’s—

 

His knees going weak.

 

“Jesse.” A hand steadying him back on his feet, making him breath harder. “Jesse, are you alright?” The brunette nodded and stared down at the marble floor.

 

“M’fine.” Jesse began, feeling the sorrow begin to bubble up in his throat. Looking up to see the biography again, holding his breath before trying to read it. Really, they were just blurred words. They used most of the same photos they used for Gabriel, but when it came to just Jack they were different. Easily reading the anxiety on his face, the way Gabriel had warned him when things went too far. Things to notice, help him when Gabriel wasn't around. It rarely happened— Jesse helping Jack. Ending the anxiousness in long talks about the one person that drew them together.

 

Breathing softly as he pressed the button again, leaving them both in darkness. Jesse removed his backpack, setting it down on the ground as he slid open the zipper. Setting the flowers in the small metal holders besides the plaques. He'd have to bring more— another day. Placing the gifts down on the ground, seeing there was nowhere else to leave them. Only then noticing there was some gifts there, one he recognized as British food. He'd been to Kings Row, he'd seen the exact same candy. Staring at it for a long while. There was more gifts, Swedish gifts to Mexican. Veladoras, folded flags, pan dulce, even beer. His eyes falling on the American gifts, an American themed serape sat folded there. Small flags and charms. He hadn't been the only one. What surprised him was the gay flag sitting besides the veladora. So many had hated Jack and Gabriel for getting married. Smiling sadly as he stared at it, eyes drawing over the column of Blackwatch. Hidden by a torn Blackwatch flag was a white, pink, and blue flag. Small and folded. A broken smile washed over his face. Taking it into his hands, he hadn't thought that it would be brought up. At least not in his biography.

 

Gently placing it down as he glanced around, no graffiti in sight. There was a long row of gifts. Even some toys littered the area. Standing up to look around, there were Chinese lanterns hanging in the other corner of the 'room’.

Only closer notice there were closed letters hidden between the gifts. The names of who they were being sent to were written in bold letters in the front. He had a few himself. The anxiousness in his chest turned into a soft chuckle.

 

“They hated us…” Jesse breathed and stared at the the closed letters. Almost wanting to open them and read what they had to say. Unsure how to feel about the turn of events.

 

“Perhaps they have realized their mistake.” Hanzo commented as he took a step closer. Staring at the plaques, brushing his finger over Jesse’s. “One never realizes how much they need something until it is gone.” Hanzo turns his head towards Jesse, staring at him with careful eyes. Jesse hums and gazes at the the plaques.

 

“ 'suppose yer’ right.” Jesse sighed as he pulled his gaze away from the names. Feeling the dread start to build again. Stepping away from the memorials, outside of the place. Taking a moment to breathe, rubbing his palms against his thighs. Trying to shake the numbing feeling out of them. Staring at the endless trees, feeling desperate and sorrowful. They were alone in the sea of tombstones and darkness. “I dunno.” Jesse began rubbing the side of his arm, “It just feels like they ain't—” Feeling a sharp sting in the side of his arm. Swatting at it, thinking it was bug coming along to annoy him. Eyes darting at what could've— a dart. Quickly yanking it out of his arm. “Hanzo!” Turning around quickly making his way inside the shelter. The Japanese man stared at him questioningly, eyes moving to the dart in his hands. Realization plastering his face.

 

“Jesse!” His knees gave out beneath him as he fell to the ground. Whatever was inside it worked quickly, feeling himself start to get drowsy. Hanzo worked him against the wall, kneeling down beside him. Taking the dart into his hand. “You will be alright— I will take you back to—” A glass broke beside Hanzo, making him cough and wheeze. He recoiled in pain, bumping into Jesse’s leg. “Cover yourself!” He quickly warned as he wiped his arm from whatever liquids covered his arm. His hand was over his mouth and nose, fearing to inhale whatever had been splashed on him.

 

“Take m’gun.” Jesse slurred, watching as Hanzo began to blur. His voice suddenly distant. “Don’ die on m’ok?” He managed as he rested his hand on Hanzo’s bicep. The man stared at him, saying something but nothing he could make out. His hand slipping from Hanzo’s arm. Watching as a pair of legs came into view. Hanzo quickly getting up—


	7. I Met You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was translated by Google Translate. If you have got a better translation, let me know. Sorry this took a while. :0

"Jesse."

Heavy breathing swirled in the cold air. Feet hurrying against the pavement. Anxious looks over his shoulder.

 

“Jesse! Please, wake up!”

 

He gasped awake as his eyes fixated on the wooden floor. Pulsing. His heart racing in his ears. 

 

Phantom pain biting at what remained of his legs. He must've slept with his prosthetics on. There was an ache in his ribs, he slept on the floor— on his side. It was wooden, so that was no surprise. Looking around, curtains shut. Dark out since there was no light creeping in and the only light in the room was his phone that was left on. Beside it were their bags, Jesse's hat tossed onto the bed—

 

Jesse.

 

Lifting his head to look around— get up and search for the cowboy— when he felt  **it** . Settling back down,  _ carefully _ , eyes moving down the curves of his torso to find a dark patch on his hip. Even in the dark he saw it. What surprised him was that he  **hadn't** bled out. 

 

The dragons. 

 

Their whispers weren't there. Instead a rather uneasy silence took their place. Hanzo took a deep breath and looked around, Jesse wasn't so far away from him. In fact, he was laying on his side, besides the bed. Breathing in and out, with no visible injuries. Good. 

 

The freckled face was clean from blood and any possible scratches or cuts. Calm and peace lay on his face. Strands of brown hair sweeping over his face, eyes closed. Lips smooth and soft—

 

He could use some sleep. Falling asleep in the most terrible position with his prosthetics on… He could practically feel the metal digging into the back of his thighs, despite his legs being asleep and numb. Despite pain building  **everywhere** in his body, he laid down on his side. Staring at the cowboy. Laying out his arm against the floor, sweeping hair off of Jesse's face. His lips parted, breathing quietly.  Matching his breathing with Jesse's.

 

The whispers returned. The dragons. Wincing as the bullet wound began to ache. Drawing his hand away from the cowboy’s face. The ink on his left arm coming to life, the soulmate marking buried beneath the ink tingled. It wasn't the time to do that. Unprepared for something like this to happen. His arm bleeding out as if all the blood had been held in before, just waiting to burst out. Scrambling onto his knees with slow movements, feeling as if though he had the world on his shoulders— weighing on him. Lulling him back down, to rest. 

 

His thighs shaking, too exhausted and sore to keep himself up. He drops onto side again. His memory jogging, he had ran with Jesse in his arms. The extra weight was something he was not used to. He could certainly carry the man, but running while being shot is one of the most agonizing things yet. 

 

He managed to finally get on his feet. Shivering and breathing shallowly. His hand hovering over the bullet wound, trying to concentrate on walking. His knees threatening to give out beneath him. Feeling the strong sensation of his soulmate. Unsure of what it meant. Maybe it— He bent forward as a sharp pain bloomed from his side. Desperately feeling over his side as he grunted. Warm and drenched. Drawing his hand back so he could see dark red. He was shot  _ twice _ . Running while being shot  **_twice_ ** is one of the most agonizing things.

 

The dragons roarer in urgency as his legs gave out beneath him. However, this time he wasn't going to get back up. Feeling far too exhausted to get back up, he laid on his side. As if warm arms had enveloped him back down. A familiar hold, warm and with the faint smell of cigars. Contemplating if he should stay for just a while longer… 

  
  


Shivering awake as he breathes emptily. A warm, delicate touch on his side. “C'mon sugar.” The voice was quiet and distant. Not the dragons, they wouldn't talk English. Not to mention they don't have a western accent… 

 

His eyes fluttered open, in a dim room. Soft cloth beneath him, instead of the cold wooden floor. His nose was stuffy and his mouth was dry with a faint taste of blood. His eyes moving around the room,  _ his _ room, landing on— Jesse. Shirt missing, his hat laid on on the foot of the bed. Strands of brown hair sliding forward from behind his ear, covering his eyes. Leaving him to stare at his freckled cheeks, getting the urge to count all the tiny dots. Up until the fainter ones on his nose.

 

Instead he raised his hand and swept back the hair covering the amber eyes. Jesse turning his head to look at Hanzo. Looking shocked and relieved, and just a  _ little _ mad. The dragons murmured in his ear, they sounded a lot clearer than Jesse did. 

 

“Thank god— Hanzo, yer’ okay.” Jesse breathed, it felt as if though he was underwater. He sounded so distant, far away. Hanzo settles his hand on Jesse's shoulder as he pulled himself up. “Wait—” 

 

His chest tightened as he broke into a coughing fit. The taste of blood only worsened. Coughing into his hand as he listened, trying to listen properly instead getting back odd feedback. A ringing sound and the feeling of being submerged in water. Jesse's hand was rough between his shoulder blades, trying to pat him through the coughing. His mind wandered.

 

His forehead pressed against Jesse's shoulder. Hanzo's back  _ uncharacteristically _ slouched and bent over. He wanted to straighten his posture, force himself to look fine and continue to be able to look like he could guide them both through the mess they were in. He wanted to feel and act like a leader, someone Jesse could—

 

“I'm sorry to interrupt, but are you alright, Mr.  _ Hanzo _ ?” He tensed in Jesse's arm, feeling the urge to run and hide away. It was a rather cowardice option but he didn't need anyone other than Jesse to see him so weak. Instead, he sat up and looked for the source of the voice. There, a holographic call. Dr. Ziegler, her hair looked disheveled and her shirt looked larger— larger than what would normally fit her. 

 

“I'm alright.” Hanzo replied smoothly, as if he hadn't just coughed up the taste of blood. Jesse's hand was at the centre of his spine, gently helping him sit up. The cowboy was warm and comfortable, almost making him want to lean against him and shut his eyes. He reminded him of warm vanilla tea during cold evenings in Hanamura. Watching the outside of his home— the city. He felt the heat crawl beneath his cheeks and neck. The thought was so… close. Intimate. 

 

“Hanzo?” 

 

“You alright sugar?” Suddenly the water-submerged-feeling disappeared. The dragons were quiet. His mind spun in confusion and want. A sense of rush coursed through him, turning his head look at Jesse. The man puzzled by him. Eyes moving at every feature as if he were trying to save every single, no matter how small, detail. Kiss him. 

 

His brain pooled with a million thoughts. Jesse. 

 

Kiss him. 

 

His scar ached. Opening his mouth to say something. What would he say? 

 

His lips were smooth, even with the little scar on his bottom lip. 

 

Kis— “Excuse me for a moment.” Hanzo stood up, biting back the sore pain in his thighs. Walking out of the room in a hurry and shutting himself in the washroom. “What was that?” He whispered to himself as he pressed his back to the door. Feeling himself blush immensely, the thought of kissing the cowboy. Putting his arms on his shoulders, holding him close—

 

The dragons whispered in his ears again— mean, teasing things. Claiming they had nothing to do with his wants. He knew that wasn't entirely true, if he allowed them to take control of him— no one would survive. It was only anger and destruction with them. Though they can come to like things. They had eyes for fruit and at times, greasy foods. 

 

Hanzo slid down as he cupped his face. Maybe he wasn't thinking straight— it could be the blood loss. That made sense. Yes it was the blood loss.

 

“You alright Han?” Jesse's voice seeped through the door. Startling Hanzo, Not knowing how to react— or to reply. Japanese words escaped his lips, he mentally cursed as he stared at the shower. He needed to think.

 

Maybe a cold shower would help him. He glanced back at the door as he looked forward at the shower. He needed a moment to digest the thoughts— and  **suppress** them. He couldn't risk getting too attached— not after— 

 

He undressed as he left the door's side, feeling the dragons’ scales rise on his arm. They wanted to escape. Do  _ something _ . There was no immediate threat to their host, Hanzo, he was okay— mildly embarrassed and confused — but otherwise fine. Eyes falling onto his reflection, the mirror showing him the brand new patched up wounds. He'd have to thank Jesse. Running his fingers through his hair as he stared down the pink gauze. For a moment he felt Jesse's hands running over his skin, patching him up with gauze. Rough hands with soft touches. Shutting his eyes and taking a deep breath before remembering. 

 

They shot him. A woman and a man. They kept asking for Jesse. Jesse. Not once did they say McCree. The woman was older and shorter than the man. He was a strong fighter but he could not beat his dragons. He carried McCree to his home, allowing himself to  _ rest _ on the floor. He couldn't let them hurt Jesse. He didn't know who they were but they didn't look like they had good intentions. If they did they wouldn't have  _ slept _ Jesse and shot him— No. If they knew he was a former Yakuza, they would've. If they knew who  **Hanzo** was, they would've. 

 

He opened his eyes as he stepped out of the shower. The dragons hummed as he felt his wet hair. His thighs ached, so did his arms but that was nothing he wasn't used to. Tormenting himself with training was nearly a daily thing, then came along Jesse. He couldn't keep his time cooped up at home. Wrapping a towel around his waist as he glanced at the towel rack. Using another towel to pat himself dry. He needed clean clothes. Clean clothes meant leaving the bathroom. Leaving the bathroom meant facing Jesse. Jesse. He hasn't forgotten his brief moment of…  _ confusion _ . How would he face him? After wanting to get so close…

 

Standing in front of the door. 

 

He had completely ignored Jesse and made a run for it to the shower. He ended up taking the cowardice route. Sighing to himself as he looked at the wooden door. Hoping, somehow, it'd appear brand new clothes in front of him. Knowing that was too childish to even wish for, he'd go get them himself. His hand resting over the doorknob. He was Hanzo Shimada, former Yakuza, why was it so difficult to get over this? 

 

Managing to distract himself and opening the door to a rather cold hallway. Unpleasant but at least McCree wasn't there to question his choice of actions, he wouldn't be able to answer. It was difficult to come up with answers when it was something completely new. Liking anyone in that way was… new. He wasn't even sure if he was in lov— if he  **liked** Jesse that way. He knew— He was  **_aware_ ** he stared at him and treated Jesse better than he treated anyone else but he wasn't sure if that was the reason. Was he really so blind to that sort of feeling?

 

Walking into an  _ unexpected _ wall— a wall he swear he never knew about. Realization hitting him immediately, when the  _ wall _ stopped him from stumbling backwards. 

 

“Ye’ alright sugar?” He got the urge to lean into the hold once more. It was a common feeling around Jesse, even when they're deep in their talks of feelings and memories. But it still surprised him anyway. Having any sort of friendly— safe feeling with anyone was a rarity. 

 

Instead, he placed his hand on Jesse's bare chest. Tilting his head back, looking up at the cowboy. Staring at the freckled face, his mouth not moving. Trying to come up with words and drawing a blank. His face only inches away. Jesse's eyes fixated on his face analyzing him. The palm of his hand pressing against the middle of Hanzo's back. 

 

Feeling blotches of red begin raise on his cheeks and the back of his neck. Yet, completely frozen in place. He wanted to hide his face, it was unlike him but he was unlike-himself a lot when around Jesse. He made him feel a little more alive, well, it felt better than the usual dull remorse. A calm feeling. A sense of  _ together _ .

 

His arm ached. Unsure if it was the bullet wound or because he left it alone by his side rather than on Jesse's shoulder. Hanzo didn't want to look away from the man— but he did. Looking at his inked armed— the mark. Making itself visible from under the tattoo, a little skull with a cross on one eye. It never made sense to him. He had never seen the symbol nor had he met anyone who knew about it. Of course, his parents weren't happy it wasn't a marking from anyone in Hanamura. At least no one  _ important _ . They wanted him to marry with people they knew, who could provide wealth and power. He was the most powerful clan, he found it unnecessary. Yet disappointing in a way. 

 

“How'd y— Is this yer’ markin’?” Jesse's thumb sweeping over it, it felt oddly… nice. Making him want to melt into his arms. What he said almost slipping his mind. 

 

He inched backward.

 

The mark. 

 

Feeling as though freezing water had been poured over his head. Would this burn their friendship down to nothing? Why would it? Anxiety gripped his lungs. “Yes, it is.” 

 

“I know this mark. It's—” 

 

A knock at the door startled them both. Fear crowded his mind, could they have followed him to his apartment? Who were they? What did they want? Releasing McCree as he listened, the doorbell rang. “Ye’ expectin’ anyone?” Jesse questioned as he took a step forward, standing directly besides the shorter man. 

 

“No. No one knows about this apartment besides you and the landlord.” Hanzo replied as he looked down his chest, he couldn't fight nude. He could but he  **_could_ ** also lose all dignity he had. “I'm going to get dressed.” Hanzo moved into the bedroom, questioning what he should use in his defence.

 

Unsure if by defence he meant Jesse and their little moment or the stranger at the door. Moving as quickly as he possibly could, not caring too much that the door was open. He grabbed a jacket, undergarments and some pants. Tying his hair as he left his jacket unzipped. He knew where his bow was if he needed it. He could disarm a gunned man. No problem. 

 

He walked out into the hall, Jesse was already heading towards the door. Gun in hand. A bit relieved he was already prepared. Hanzo collected his bow and quiver, waiting further back into the living room. Waiting for McCree. The dragons murmured, something he couldn't quite understand. Too quiet. The cowboy nodded at him as he slowly, turned the knob. His hands pulling back the arrow he had set. His arm trembled as he tightened his hold on the arrow. Waiting. Slowing his breath, calming his heart as he watched the door open. No one. Trying to listen, to  _ hear _ if there were someone there. 

 

There were no children on his floor, they wouldn't go and pull  _ jokes _ on him anyway. No. Glaring at the empty hallway. “Maybe it was a prank. Ain't nothin’ wrong with that.” Jesse was obviously trying to reassure them both, even if they both knew that was not the case. It was extremely suspicious. Could it have been a distraction? For what? His heart racing as he thought, trying to catch something suspicious around the room, what could it be?

 

“I do not think that is the case.” Lowering his bow. It was no use wasting his energy, there was nothing  _ there _ . However he had to think it didn't make sense. 

 

Suddenly there was a crash at the window— a bullet zoomed by. Suddenly footsteps—  **many** footsteps. 

 

He only had a short amount of time to collect what he needed to. This was not the moment to freeze and plan, but if he didn't he may lose— he forced the thought away. Jesse slammed the door shut as he locked it, though it wasn't of any use but rather to buy them some minutes. “Follow me. We will leave through the back.” He needed to get dressed for the cold, he could hold on for some time but not too long with a  _ thin _ jacket. Opening the balcony doors, no time to think. 

 

Staring down at moving lanterns down the street. A parade? 

 

The sound of the door breaking travelled to the bedroom. 

 

They couldn't just jump onto the crowd. He had to see a safe landing spot— for Jesse. 

 

Footsteps running towards the bedroom. 

 

“Fuck, no time to think sweetheart.” 

 

In one moment he was firm on his feet, the other he was in the air. Jesse holding him tightly, his hair swept back. For just a second, trapped in his eyes. The scattered freckles on his face. McCree's eyes moved to stare back at his, losing the glare he had. There was a touch of something soft and— they were falling.

 

What was he doing? 

 

Turning back to look at the now almost too close landing. He turned on his side so he'd receive all of the brunt. Jesse yelled something, he heard but pretended as if he didn't. 

 

Spirit dragons. 

 

“着陸を安全にしてください.” Hanzo turned to look at the cowboy, “Jesse McCreeが安全に着陸できるようにしてください.” Jesse staring at him with squinted eyes. Fear drawn on him.

 

“Hanzo.” 


	8. Are You Sure it's Me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little shorter but a lot happens here.

Gabe knew a lot about being in love. Hell, he was the sappiest guy on base. Knew how to fix things when something fucked up. Or when _he_ fucked up. Knew how to fix people, bring 'em back from whatever's got them down. He knew that one from experience, first few days were rough for him. Everyone knew he loved Jack, he fucking married the guy!

 

If only he could…

 

Damn.

 

“C'mon sugar plum.” Where they fell was somewhat discreet in the alleyway least visible by the walking parade members. Something he'd planned, what he didn't plan was for Hanzo to practically cover his fall. He looked alright, every bone where it should be. What didn't seem okay was the fact that Hanzo looked like something hurt. Being hurt now would get them caught. He couldn't move Hanzo either in case he did hurt something. “Can ya’ move? Did ya’ break anythin’?” Hanzo shook his head and took a deep breath.

 

“Bullet wounds. They may have opened.” Hanzo struggled to sit up on the crates. Jesse quickly wrapped an arm around him, easing him up. “You can get away. I will find a way to lead them—”

 

“No, no. We ain't doin’ that. We're stickin’ together. You're hurt. I'll get Angie to cure yer’ wounds.” Hanzo's eyes darted around, anxious about surroundings. The man sighed, the tenseness in his shoulders slipped away. That's when he remembered— the mark. That's _his_. He has _Jesse's_ mark. The tattoo on his arm was a dragon. Was he the one?

 

“Let's blend in. We will be harder to spot in the crowd.”

 

“You— you won't be t’walk like that. If they see ya’ limpin’ they'll know it's us.” Hanzo sulked, making himself look smaller. A burden. He felt— “Hey. I got an idea. What if I carry ya’? Everyone at the parade is carryin’ somebody n’ we'll blend in no problem.” The man nodded, thinking about the idea only after he replied.

 

“You cannot carry me until we reach your friends. That would certainly not be good.” Hanzo replied as he continued to look around, safe for now. Music from the parade blocked out most sounds.

 

“I'll call 'em here.”

 

“Would we not be putting their lives at risk?”

 

“They worked in Overwatch. They know what they're doin’.” Jesse assured as he collected his phone from his pocket. Texting both Angela and Fareeha. Hanzo untied his hair and zipped up his jacket.

 

“We have to play the part. As long as we look like any other and act like any other, we may lose them.” Hanzo glanced into the marching people, so did McCree. A love parade. February.

 

“Ain't got a problem with that.” Jesse replied sweetly, winking at the archer playfully. For a brief moment, he swore he saw him blush. “ 'right, you all set pumpkin?” Hanzo nods and gives Jesse the cello case— he had taken it before jumping off the balcony. It was a little surprising he had decided to take it, but then again one can't just walk around with a weapon. Jesse slung it over his shoulder and picked up the man. He weighed less than the first time he picked him up.

 

“Once we step out of this dead end, I will act accordingly. Please, remember to act as so. I do not want you to get hurt as well.” Jesse stared at the man for a moment. Captivated by the stare, dark eyes suddenly not so dark. But rather light. Seeing him worry over him really was something.

 

“Don't ya’ worry yer’ head over me, pumpkin. I got this. Best actor you've ever met.” McCree replied with a smile and began the walk out of the alleyway. Greeted with crowds of people and omnics, smiling faces and the smell of popcorn as well as corn dogs.

 

Feeling an arm over his shoulders, another hand pressing to Jesse's chest. Looking down to meet a grinning Hanzo, seemingly drowsy and delicate. It was a serious change. Every single threatening and scary feature from his face and body was gone. “That was fun. Maybe we should try and win this time. Maybe win a bear?” But he could still the Hanzo he knew. The Hanzo he'd come to like.

 

Hanzo's hand resting in his hair now. A dazed smile on his face, eyes squinted as he smiled. It was a nice look on him but maybe he liked the cold, true Hanzo more.

 

“ ‘Right sounds like a plan sugar. But for now, we're headin’ on home. Got work tomorrow.” Hanzo's eyes fluttered, looking a little…

 

“I see. Well, there's always next time, I suppose.” Hanzo replied in a quiet voice, looking drowsy still but in a less _floaty_ way— something he couldn't quite describe. Something hurt about that. He could stop and get him that bear. A little rigged-rifle game couldn't beat the sharpest six-shooter around.

 

His phone buzzed. “Hey sweetheart, mind gettin’ my phone for me. It's 'n my pocket.” Hanzo nodded and easily found it, taking it into one hand as the other hover over the wound. He was trying not to make the blood smudge on either of them, it was already starting to sleep through.

 

“They're here darling.” Suddenly his eyes went big as he looked at him— past him. He pulled Jesse's head down, pressing his lips against his.

 

It was— unexpected.

 

More than unexpected. It was slow. Rough and gradually, slowing to something careful and soft. Yet an immense feeling of _need_ and want weighed on him, closeness was arguably what he felt the most. A bouquet of feelings yet it was soothing. His hand resting on Jesse's neck, loosening his hold. Pulling away to pressed his forehead against Jesse's. “They're gone.”

 

Oh.

 

That's why—

 

“Reyes.” That name. He lifted his head to see Angela and Fareeha heading towards with a smile. “Nice meeting you two here.” Fareeha says as she adjusts her yellow cap, wearing grey sunglasses. Angie holding Fareeha's hand, her hair was loose and free from a ponytail. Her other hand holding cotton candy and a small stuffed bear. “We were here since a while ago, then we saw you and Sojiro.” Hanzo tensed in his arms, holding onto him tighter.

 

“Oye, que no iba ver una fiesta en tu lugar? Ya íbamos en caminó.” Jesse rushed as he glanced at Hanzo. Who was looking paler than before, holding an interested smile. Fareeha paused for a split second. She was taking in the situation. Angela looked past McCree, he could see the habit beginning to itch. She wanted to push her hair behind her ear or tie it. Something was making her anxious. If he looked back he'd only make them more suspicious.

 

“Yeah, yeah! Let's go, we'll take you.” She said in a less _excited_ voice, cautious almost. Jesse nodded and began walking alongside them.

 

His eyes fixated on the two. Angela glanced back and turned back to press her head against Fareeha's shoulder. She looked like she hadn't slept, she had written on her left hand. Notes. They were in German. He could read out the word treat. Back then, on base, if you knew another language you could teach it to fellow comrades. He taught Fareeha Spanish and she taught him a little Arabic. The variety of knowing languages meant opportunities. Besides all that, he was curious to learn a little of everything.

 

Turning back to look at Hanzo, dazed but staring at him. No fake smile or character display, just a tired Hanzo in his arms. Breathing slowly and with a little difficulty. He looked away when he noticed Jesse looking back.

 

←→

 

They were at Angela and Fareeha's home. It was relatively quiet, besides the sound of faint instrumental music. Angela sat beside Hanzo, holding her staff as she healed him. The man looked weary and exhausted. Keeping his eyes away from her, looking straight ahead to a plain wall. He must've worried about her nerves.

 

Jesse glanced away from the man to look at Angela, she wasn't moving her hair back. She left it alone, keeping her hands busy with the staff. Drawing his attention back to Hanzo. He was shirtless and tucked into bed so he could rest right after he was done healing. Though, that made him think. The mark. The kiss. Did it mean anything to him? Was he only hoping he'd feel something?

 

Fingertips slowly crept on his hand.

 

Turning his hand to look at Hanzo. The man was staring at his hand, seemingly unaware of what he was doing. Staring at his shoulder, there was his mark. Looking a little irritated beneath all the ink.

 

“All set. I will return in a bit.” Angela whispered as the yellow glow of the staff disappeared. Standing up to pat herself down. “Please do not move, Hanzo. Give it time to adjust.” She commented as she slowly left the room. The door clicking behind her. Silence poured into the room, the only sound was the faint music but even that seemed like it had shut off.

 

“You wanna tell me why ya’ almost killed yer'self to keep me from the fall?”

 

“Have you found your soulmate?”

 

Silence cramped into the room again. Hanzo's hand stiffened, stopping at the very side. Eyes glum, fixated straight ahead again. Probably what was grounding him now. The situation was all over the place, taking Hanzo's living space and shooting him…

 

“No, I haven't. Haven't been able to since I lost m'arm. Still, see it tryna form on my other though.” Jesse replied as he darted his eyes to the mark, seeing Hanzo visibly tense.

 

“I did it so you would remain alive. It is not as if I would have died. They wouldn't have let me die anyhow.” Hanzo replies and draws his hand away, he suddenly felt a wave of just… gloom? Remorse. Anger?

 

Deciding not to probe that subject he glanced at the scar. “What 'bout _that_? Yer’ lucky soulmate?” Hanzo tensed and sighed to himself.

 

“No one knows the symbol. A great disappointment from where I come from. They wished for a woman inside of Hanamura. Someone with power and wealth.” Hanzo paused and darted his eyes away. “Perhaps it is for the best I do not find them, or they find me. I do not wish to disappoint them.” The wave only increased, weighing on him like a hundred bricks. What was it? Could he feel what Hanzo felt? Was it because he had his mark? Is that how things worked? Could he push emotions?

 

“I don't think that's quite right sugar.” He tried to push a calm feeling. Unsure if it worked or it was even a thing he could do. Hanzo glanced at him through the corner of his eyes, looking back to the other side of the room. “Ain’t sure if yer’ into the ladies or the men, or both— there's plenty of both. But I know, yer’ not so bad. Yeah, we got a shitty past. There ain’t much we can do 'bout that—but we can _grow_ from it. You look like you've been growin’ plenty. Stopped bein’ a sour puss n’ even gone out to care for little ol’ me. Yer’ not killin’ anyone who doesn't deserve it. Need a little help on the drinkin’ but I'm here ain't I?” Jesse paused and stared at him, he could see a faint smile. Almost hidden by his normal blank face. “Yer’ not disappointin’ anyone.”

 

Hanzo turned his head to look at the cowboy. He could see the need to protest on his face but stopped as he pressed a hand to his face and inhaled. His tensed figure slowly seeped away, Jesse watched as it happened. He scooped the archer into his arms as he exhaled, it was a slow process. And so he waited.

 

Slowly but surely the archer stopped fighting it and let himself go.

 

Jesse pressed his head against Hanzo’s, his hands against his back. Feeling the broken breathing pattern. Eyes moving up to stare at the wall across from them.

 

There stood Jack and Gabriel, Jack holding Gabriel. Whispering against his head, things he couldn’t hear. He’d never seen this. Suddenly Gabriel turned to smoke as Jack fell to his knees, a metal pole piercing his chest.

 

He darted his eyes away. Holding the archer tighter, squeezing his eyes shut.

 

←→

 

“Jesse.”

 

He opened his eyes to a looming figure. Squinting at the dark figure, he couldn’t make out any faces in the dark. Lifting his head to try and come face-to-face so he’d get at least some idea of who it was.

 

“Yeah?” McCree replied as he carefully removed his weight from on top of Hanzo. Apparently, he’d fallen asleep on the man. The figure moved further away from him. As his eyes adjusted he noticed a hood, they weren’t too much taller than he was.In fact, they seemed much shorter. Fareeha was nearly as tall as him, Angela wasn’t as small. He didn’t have his gun on him.

 

“Why are you with this man Jesse? Don’t you know who he is?” He knew the voice— he just couldn’t remember who.

 

“Now ain’t that funny. Who’re ya’ to be sayin’ so?” McCree whispered back sharply as his eyes trailed down the figure. Their hands were out of their pockets. “Why shouldn’t I shoot ya’ right on spot?”

 

“Because, Jesse, I taught you better.” They removed their hood.

 

He didn’t know what to do. Frozen in place. All the words he had been planning to say when he found her— **saw** her one more time left his mind. “He is—”

 

“That’s the first— fuckin’ thing— I see ya’ for the first damn time after the fallout ‘n the first thing yer’ here to tell me is that he’s fuckin’ dangerous?” Jesse huffed in disbelief as he glared at her. She frowned as she gazed up at him then at the archer that laid asleep behind him. He wanted to be happy he could see her— know she was alive and well. But he couldn't, anger and confusion bubbled in his chest as he tried to think of just how long she'd been hidden away. 

 

“We— I didn’t know how to— I wanted to talk to you in the bar. I couldn’t find the courage to. I couldn’t tell Fareeha.”

 

“What? Yer’ lyin’. Ya’ haven’t told her?” Jesse exhaled exasperated, thinking of how Fareeha would react to see her mother one more time. If it’s tough for him, it must be even harder for her. Thinking back to the bar. Ana was in plain sight. The one sitting in the far back with a man. “Who was sititin’ in the bar with you?” He sighed as folded his arms, staring at the older woman.

 

“Jesse don’t—”

 

“Who was it?” Ana breathed quietly as she glanced at the door, he kept his eyes trained on her. Waiting for the name of the soldier, he knew it was the one he had spoken to Hanzo about—

 

“Jack.”


	9. It's You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heck this one is something.

His world collapsed. 

 

Words draining out of his mind as he stared at her. Falling back onto the edge of the bed. Feeling the bed shift with the new added weight. “Jesse.”

 

“Is he out there?” A hand slid up to the centre of his back. Moving slowly and subtly, almost missing the circular motions.

 

“Yes.” Anxiety crushed his lungs as he stared at the door— 

 

the door creaked open. Light pouring into the room. 

 

Lifting his head to see Fareeha. Gun in hands. Tight grip. One foot before the other. Ready to attack.

 

“Turn around, hands where I can see them.” Dread knotted in his stomach. The hand moved to squeeze his shoulder, getting the feeling the motion was meant to pull him back and hide him. Probably just a hopeful thought. 

 

“Fareeha—”

 

Ana did as told. Turning around, hands up by her head. “أمي?” The gun clattered to the ground, the hand on his shoulder flinched. There was a minute tug. A shift on the bed. The archer sat up behind him as he stared at the two guests in the bedroom. A sense of panic spiked through him. Glancing back to see a dishevelled Hanzo. Squinting, trying to analyze the situation.

 

“Fareeha.” Fareeha froze where she stood as she faced her. Her mother. However, couldn't last a second longer. Eyes glassy. Taking a deep breath as she shut her eyes. He wanted to hug her. He knew how much Fareeha wanted to hug her mom. 

 

“Please go sit besides him. We're  _ all _ going to talk.” She stepped aside as she opened her eyes again. Masking any visible emotion, instead exhaling. She learned to do that over the years. Exhale any hide any bad feelings and save it for later. They'd talked about it endlessly. Ana stared at her for a second before leaving the room. Almost reaching out for her. “Jesse, Hanzo.” She nodded her head out towards the living room. She was holding on much stronger than he expected, but then again, Fareeha was the one who came out strongest after the fall. She took care of everyone. 

 

Jesse stood with Hanzo's help, easing him up slowly. Hands careful on him. Whispering things like “Be careful,” or “Watch your step,” as he guided him. It was almost as if he understood the sudden shock of seeing someone you thought was dead. 

 

Fareeha wasn't dressed in much besides a sports bra and the old training shorts from Overwatch. So Jesse tossed her his serape that she took with a nod of gratitude. Wrapping it around herself, maintaining her gaze down.

 

It was going to be a long day.

  
  


Everyone was in the living room. Angela was wearing her lab coat over her shorts and tank top. Bringing a tray of coffees to the coffee table, as if it were an everyday visit. Fareeha stood at the armrest, across from  **them** . Arms crossed. Angela sat beside her as he let Hanzo sit, still hurt from the bullet wounds. Jesse leaned on the armrest as gazed at the floor.

 

Managing the courage to look up and see beside Ana. 

 

“Gabe, this is amazing. Maybe this should be Overwatch's official bar.” A memory plagued his mind as he stared. The Jack he knew... there was more white hair now, on this Jack. Two fresh new scars on his face. Avoiding eye contact, he was nervous. He could still read him. 

 

Fareeha started “It's good to see you're both still alive, after a few months now.” Time had passed since then, yet not enough for it to stop feeling new. Hanzo's hand took his. The archer was trying to ground him. He lightly squeezed his hand, he appreciated the gesture. “Does anyone else know you're alive? 

 

Jack's eyes stayed still on the coffee, they looked a dull blue. 

 

“Lena Oxton and Reaper in Talon.” Ana answered the name made Jack flinch. Jesse glanced at Angela, she was picking up on his body language. Reaching for Fareeha, as she tugged her coat.

 

Fareeha nodded and stared at Ana. “Why didn't you— either of you contact us? Is there danger out there? We can help you.” Fareeha's voice softened as she neared the end. He eyed Ana, she was staring up at her daughter. Almost as if she were lost in her mind, thinking of a response. She exhaled and lowered her head. He flicked his attention back to Jack. He looked a little more frenzy. The fall must've only spiked the lack of control over it. He needed to do something. 

 

“What made you come out from hiding?” There was a brief pause. Ana glanced at Jack then at Jesse, looking back at Fareeha with an indescribable expression. Fareeha only narrowed her eyes and continued to focus on Ana alone. 

 

With a heavy sigh, she answered. “We think, the ghost in Talon known as Reaper may be a former Overwatch agent.” Ana paused as she broke eye contact to look at Jesse. “We think he may be Gabriel.” 

 

Nausea suddenly welled in his throat, boiling hot water poured over him. Tensing up as Ana began to blur, he could see Jack staring at him. Just beside him was— His lungs decided to stop and freeze. 

 

Smoke filled the room—

 

He was— He was

 

“Jesse.” 

 

Eyes frantic in the dark. Suffocating and cold. The sound of the day he—

 

Blue sparked in the midst of the smoke. Shaped like… a dragon?

 

“Jesse.” 

 

He laid below the debris, he was in pain. He couldn't help. He couldn't. Is he in pain now?

 

Blue burned through the black. 

 

What happened to him? Did he— Did he do that? 

 

“Jesse, breathe.” His mind collided. Seeing a blurry Hanzo and a G—

 

A broken record. Watching him slowly fade away. Over and over. 

 

“Jesse, whatever you are seeing, is not there. You are here, with me. In the home of your friends Ms Fareeha and Dr Angela.” Hanzo's hand swept over his face, it was a lighted room. Hanzo stood in front of him, smoke forming behind him. Hanzo glanced behind himself and lowered Jesse's head. “There is nothing here except you and I. You are safe, I would not let anything harm you.” Squeezing his eyes shut desperately, hearing Gabriel's voice in his ear. 

 

“You're safe kid.” 

 

He jolted and opened his eyes desperately. Hoping— hoping to see… 

 

He wrapped his arms around the archer. He knew it was him, even through the fog of his mind. The only person that seemed—  **is** real in his eyes. Soft murmurs pressed against his cheek, Hanzo's voice. Only his. The man's hands pressed against his back soothingly, unmoving but grounding. 

 

“Please. Please tell me they're really here. That I haven't gone 'nsane yet.” As much as it hurt to ask, he had to. It couldn't have all been his fears that made a grand illusion. 

 

“Yes, they are here. They're both here, in the other room. What is not here is the man. The ghost you are seeing is not really here.” Hanzo whispered and leaned back to stare at him, cleaning his face carefully. Jesse stared at him, he knew that expression guilt and fear weighed in his eyes. Trying to hide it. 

 

He could see behind Hanzo the black starting to dissolve, doing his best to ignore it. To pretend he wasn't calling to him. Pretending he wasn't trying to reach for him.

 

Instead, he glanced around making out a different room. This was Fareeha and Angela's room. Guessing Hanzo had brought him here while he was in a haze. 

 

“Jesse, I know they will tell you this tonight. But I would like to tell you myself.” McCree turned to look at the archer, looking uncharacteristically frightened and worried. “They will tell you who I was and what I've done. What my title was and where I came from.” Oh. There was a pause as he collected himself, “I know you have already received many uneasy news, but I need to tell you this myself not to seek forgiveness but to seek your answer.” Anxiousness spread down him quickly but shut it off with a stern face. Jesse squeezed his shoulder lightly, even through the haze he could see so much.

 

“I am Hanzo Shimada. The former heir of the Shimada Clan. As well as the former Yakuza that was searched by, I suppose, Blackwatch. I have indeed killed many for the clan and I've shown no mercy. I've killed my brother Genji. I then ran away from the clan, I am unable to live with that memory and why I followed their instructions so blindly. You have given me the ability to live just a little more, even if I do know what I have done is unforgivable. However, I am not worthy of that redemption. Not after what I have done. If you decide to no longer be… a part of my life then you have the option of killing me.” 

 

Jesse inhaled as he stared at the man, he really was losing his mind. 

 

The Shimada Clan. He was the next heir. Yakuza. Genji. Genji. Genji. Hanamura. It was a trip he'd taken due to Blackwatch. Collecting Genji and seeing the symbols. The double dragons. Genji is… Could he be alive too? His name wasn't at the cemetery, right?

 

“Hanzo. I wouldn't fuckin’ kill ya’.” Jesse began as he moved his hand to his face. “ 'n I— I worked with yer’ brother in Blackwatch. He ain't dead. Probably ain't dead now either.” Hanzo looked like he had been impaled, at first he thought he was but no. He hadn't been struck. The archer shook his head and moved backwards. 

 

“No. No, I had— I had killed him.” His voice stuck between desperation and disbelief. 

 

“The man ‘n the paintin's were him. He don't look’a lot like before. When you knew 'em.” Hanzo stood before him. Jesse watched him. Waited for him to begin to fall apart, he anticipated it. Finding out a loved one is alive is more than enough to push you off the edge. Except, he didn't instead he went silent. Holding a pained expression. 

 

He could see the pain growing and thoughts happening.

 

“Hanzo—”

 

“I'm sorry to interrupt but we need you both.” Angela stood at the door frame, holding the tiny kitty in one arm. Her other hand sweeping her hair behind her ear. She was nervous and she looked like she was ready to snap, unsure in which  _ way _ . He had seen her mad and sad. Though, now seemed like neither. 

 

“ 'kay. Give us a’minute Angie, please.” Angela paused for a moment but nodded. Before she walked away he caught sight of a medicine jar. Pills. For who? Could it be— 

 

He decided not to focus on it. Gazing at Hanzo who looked about ready to fall into a drinking session. He could lie to him— tell him Genji didn't hate him. But Genji was so made up of anger and revenge during Blackwatch, well when he was new. Eventually he got calmer and learned to be more than a soldier for Blackwatch. That was mostly thanks to Gabe— Gabe. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth. He couldn't think about that, not now. 

 

He had to patch up the archer in front of him. Make sure Jack knew he didn't hate him, because if he was the same as before, he'd be deep in his mind full of worry and anxiety over the whole thing. These particular situations had a way with him. However, Ana. Ana he'd figure something out. There was lots to talk about. For now, Hanzo. 

 

He took ahold of the archer's hands. Hanzo staring up at him with dark eyes, he looked like he was already deep in the pit of self hate and misery. Not to mention he was starting to feel it weigh on him. 

 

“We're gonna get through today. Then we're gonna go to my place and we can talk there. You 'n I can have a well deserved drink 'n cry on each others shoulders if we need'to. But we're gonna get through it because runnin’ from it is only gonna make this a’ hell of a lot worse. I don't want ya’ to be alone.” Hanzo gave a half smile and squeezed his hand just before exhaling and nodding. It was a little forced, he knew he rather run off and hide for days but now he had someone. He could help him through it.

 

←→

 

Jesse sighed as he leaned over the counter. Hanzo sat across from him, holding his glass of vodka. He made sure to water it down a bit so it wouldn't completely make him sick, but that obviously wouldn't stop the brunt of it. Jack and Ana sat at a table that was closer to the counter, allowing him to stare at Jack. Make his chest tighten. Make him think about what could've happened to him to get those nasty scars. 

 

Shaking his head to himself as he glanced at Fareeha and Angela who looked exhausted. Angela was more or less hanging on by a thread. Exhaustion and the groundbreaking news were visibly weighing on her. Twirling her hair in one hand, other hand tapping away at the side of her glass. Wearing a calm expression. Fareeha trying, most likely, to help collect Angela and herself. She was leaning on the blond just a bit, placing a comforting hand on her back. 

 

The cowboy looked back at the archer. Glass half empty. He just wanted it to stop. Wanted to coop up the man in his arms. Let Hanzo and himself have a moment of peace and recovery.  _ Something _ . But he knew now that it was going to be nearly impossible with what's happened. 

 

Gabe sat at one of the small tables, across from him was Jesse. Stacks of papers sat on it but two mugs accompanied them. “Everything is fine kid. No más es algo que yo tengo que hacer. Se puede arreglar.”

  
  


Angela and Fareeha ended up going home. Angela couldn't handle it, he didn't blame her he would've lost it if he had the choice to. What he noticed was the way she did it, it wasn't something obvious, at least not to him. She only looked like she was irritated, but felt none. Her face said something different, maybe he's only learned to see her angry. Fareeha decided they'd discuss later, no one was fit to be talking about much of anything. Jack and Ana stayed in the bar, using the spare bedroom he had tried to stay out of. He decided they could clear out a box or two, he just couldn't go back in there. Also because he just couldn't look at them, not yet. Not now. It felt too much like exposing a fresh new wound to salt. 

 

Jesse also took Hanzo home. The archer was drunk while he didn't want him to get even more mixed up in the  _ family _ mess. Not to mention those two would disapprove of him befriending the ex-yakuza Hanzo Shimada. Well possibly more than just befriend said man.

 

The cowboy sighed quietly as he carried the man to his room. Hanzo was quiet but tucking his head to his neck, keeping one hand on his shoulder. It reassured him a little. Having his hand on Jesse's shoulder. Something about Hanzo  _ holding _ him put him at ease.

 

Hanzo reluctantly opened the door once they got there. Returning back to his spot as continued his silence. It felt odd. This silence was different. The cowboy shut the door behind them, seeing the apartment just a little dishevelled. He'd help him clean up once he'd put the man down. 

 

He walked slowly and carefully, unsure why he did it. Continuing down the hall to Hanzo's bedroom. The bedroom lock was broken, Hanzo would probably want that fixed. The balcony doors shut. Ana and Jack must've shut them after them. 

 

“ ‘right sugar plum, I'm gonna set'cha down.” Jesse whispered as he lowered him onto the bed. The archer settled into the bed. Before he could pull away Hanzo tugged on his shirt. Dark eyes fixated up on him, throughout this whole trip, that was the first time he had looked him in the eye. 

 

The brunette sat down beside the man. Sighing to himself as he swept his thumb over the wrist rest on his shoulder. Hanzo's eyes lowered as he kept his hand on Jesse. He hovered over him, feeling the urge to take him into his arms again. He decided against it. Instead, he stayed there with him. Not a word was shared between the two. Only sitting there with the man until he managed to sleep. 


	10. The Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's something??

Jesse shuddered as he stared at the dark ahead of him. It was cold and he was alone. Looking down to see his arm missing, post-fall? Looking back up to see Hanzo. Blue radiating from him. He was staring away from him. He wanted to call out but it didn't seem like his mouth wanted to cooperate with him. Staying silent as he took a step forward. Noticing that he looked distinctly different… silver hairs. No metal piercings. Reaching out only to be distracted by someone a foot apart from Hanzo. Fareeha. Standing tall as she held someone in her arms. He couldn't tell who. She looked upset. The radiating blue began to dim— turning back to Hanzo. He was on his knees bent forward, holding something to his chest. Looking directly at Jesse. 

 

Awakening to greet the smell of alcohol and faint cologne. Cracking an eye open to see silky black hair. Warmth radiating off whatever he was pressed against, it was comfortable and tempting to stay there. Wherever there was. Titling his head back to see a face. Not just any face, Hanzo's face. His face didn't flush red like he expected, instead he moved back into place. Shivering at the cold breeze that brushed against his back. Feeling a strong arm hold him closer. Shutting his eyes for a moment, a sense of peace poured over him. It was odd, calm was not a feeling he'd expect to feel recently, with what was going on that was the last emotion he expected. 

 

The cowboy opened his eyes to stare at the black T-shirt Hanzo had on. It sparked a sudden pain in centre of his chest. Blinking quickly as he averted his eyes, staring at the crook of Hanzo's neck. 

 

_ “He's dead, Jesse, we did everything we could. We couldn't find him.” _ Overlapped in his head as continued to stare. He had known it wasn't true,  _ somehow _ , it wasn't true. It wasn't true for Jack or Ana. It couldn't have been true for Gabriel. But, wouldn't it be better than being brainwashed and used as nothing more than a weapon? It made him tense. The idea of Gabe being brainwashed into a killer. Letting out a broken breath as he squeezed his eyes shut. The thought of him surviving the fall and only to be taken in by the enemy. 

 

Delicate fingers combed through his hair, distracting him for just a second. He glanced up to see Hanzo's eyes partially open, staring off. He looked like he was contemplating, knowing the, contemplative look all too well. Did he know what he was doing? Did Hanzo know Jesse was awake? 

 

“Good morning.” Hanzo's voice startled him, he made a minute effort to move back. Truthfully, he didn't want to move from where he laid. He was probably the only thing holding him together.

 

“Mornin’.” It was a quiet reply that he doubted Hanzo heard, but to his surprise the archer heard. 

 

“Are you alright?” Hanzo didn't leave room for any pregnant silences. He wasn't sure if he liked that or not. 

 

“Yeah, you?”

 

“Truthfully, I don't know. That may only be because of the alcohol. I am  _ stunned _ to hear he is  **alive** — to have you know who I am is also shocking but— I am not relying on  _ past methods _ , instead I am here.” Hanzo sounded in disbelief, it only took him a second to figure out what he meant. He wasn't feeling over some bar, drunk sick beyond belief. 

 

“ 'n would you rather…” The words dissolved as he stared up at him. He was… nervous. Worried about his answer.

 

“No.” 

 

The reply, somehow, surprised him. He supposed he thought Hanzo would rather be somewhere else in the world and drinking alone. He knew he would've a long time ago. 

 

A sudden urge to talk overwhelmed him. To say what he knew about the mark. What he  _ felt _ . He wanted to. His chest ached with longing to tell. Like a secret he wanted to break. Fuck, he didn't even know if they were ready for that. Was he? Was Hanzo ready? With all that's going on? 

 

“Hanzo.” Jesse began as he tilted his head, ignoring the position they were in for just a moment. 

 

Hanzo gazed down at him. It was a terrible moment to think it but— he felt as if his eyes were stars themselves. A contrast from the dark colour they were. 

 

Almost as if he were a teenager again, staring back at the man he once liked. “ ‘m happy 'bout that. I hope I can help ya’ when yer’ 'n need.” He lost the nerve. He  **_lost_ ** the nerve. Unbelievable.

 

But the defeat wasn't so bad. He got to see the archer smile and felt him tuck Jesse's hair behind his ear. It made him melt into a puddle of pure hope. 

 

He was in love. 

 

It made him smile. He wasn't sure how he felt about that realization but it made him smile. Feeling his face warm. Unsure of how he felt, but it sure as hell wasn't bad. 

 

Hanzo pressed his forehead against his, placing one hand on his cheek. 

 

←→

 

Hanzo ended up walking him home, it was enough time for them to have a talk about their next meet up and what they'd do in the meantime. Hanzo was staying in his apartment and cleaning up after the incident, as well as stocking up on food. He'd offered Jesse a place to stay if it became too much to stay in the bar. Jesse returned the favour with a smile. 

 

However, what startled him was the open sign on the bar window. Heading inside slowly as music and chatter filled his ears. Something bumping into his chest. 

 

“Perdon.” He looked down to see the woman from last time, the all-purple woman. This time she wore all black, moving past him, not giving him a chance to come up with a reply. He went inside, deciding not to give the small incident much thought. The bar was full. A little more lively than usual but nothing he couldn't handle. Behind the counter was Fareeha, in front of her on a stool, was Angela. Drinking what he thought to be scotch. Ana was out and about, helping deliver the drinks. Jack was nowhere to be seen. In fact, he wasn't even out with the rest of them. He must be upstairs still. Jesse greeted the three, making it rather quick so he wouldn't have to stick around for too long. He wasn't too ready to hold a long conversation with Ana. Hoping he'd soon have the nerve to spark up some conversation. 

 

Heading up the wooden stairs. He'd have to change into his uniform and check on Jack. Running the risk of awkward and painful conversations. Conversations that meant they'd talk about Gabriel and what was going on. The sole thought of it made his chest ache. 

 

“Jesse.” There it was. 

 

Reaching the top of the stairs and stopping. At the round table, sat Jack. Facing the other way, but from what he could tell, and the right frame he wore around his shoulders, Jack was either uncomfortable or upset. 

 

“Yeah?” Replying quietly but loud enough he could hear. Moving towards the table at a slow pace so he wouldn't set off the man. 

 

“I was wondering if we could talk.” 

 

The sentence infuriated him. Talk. After leaving for so long— taking a deep breath as he collected himself. He couldn't act like a prick. Even if he had some right to be. He couldn't. 

 

“ 'kay. What 'bout?” He asked as he pulled a chair and sat across from him. 

 

“Gabriel.”

 

His chest ached and his head spun, but steadied himself on the damned table. Anger was bubbling his stomach. Ready to jump out and— and—

 

“What 'bout Gabe?” The name left a sour taste in his mouth. No. It wasn't the name. It wasn't that. Turning his head to stare at the wooden boards on the floor. 

 

“I know how much he means to you,” glaring at the wood harder, if he stared any longer there'd be a hole there “he meant a lot to me too—” That made something stick in his throat, glancing at Jack. He seemed just as welled up as he was. 

 

“Well, that's not what we're going to talk about.” Jack forced an awkward, half hearted laugh. Jesse turned his head to stare at Jack. Something plummeted in his chest. Fuck. 

 

“I wanted to tell you how much we know—”

 

“Don't. Don't tell me.” Jesse said as he shook his head stopping the cloud of memories from overwhelming him. Jack look stunned and on the brink— just ready to burst. He knew he'd do the same. He wasn't exactly over the fact just yet. “We can talk 'bout that later. Now we can talk 'bout somethin’ else.” McCree said as he stood up to brew some coffee. “Still like yer’ coffee with lots'a sugar?” 

 

←→

 

It was an unexpected day. More than  _ unusual _ . His conversation with Jack went along without arguments, instead there was laughter. The man was still funny with his heart in the right place. He'd managed to control the mood of the conversation, it wasn't easy, but he managed. Ana and Fareeha slowly began to reunite, not fully yet but he was sure they'd do okay in some time. Angela looked about steady, so it was a rather peaceful day and…  eventful. 

 

Who he needed to check on was his  _ Cupid _ . He thought the name fit him well, he did shoot arrows and it was February. He hadn't talked to him all day, considering he was busy making sure there was peace. Knocking on the door to his complex, holding a bag of groceries. He knew Hanzo enough that he figured the man hasn't eaten any cooked foods since the happening. The door opened to reveal a tired, hazy Hanzo. Of course there was still the usual touch of neatness and… eyeliner? Had he never noticed that before? 

 

“Hello Jesse.” There wasn't a reek of alcohol so that was a good start. 

 

“Howdy Hanzo.” McCree replied with a faint grin, now that he thought about it. It looked like Hanzo had just woken up, weird, he assumed most makeup would be ruined after some sleep. Hanzo stepped aside to let him in. Thanking him softly as he stepped inside. On the couch was a blanket. 

 

“Did I interrupt—” Hanzo shook his head and tied his hair as he stared at Jesse. 

 

“I thought you would have been with them. They just returned after all.” Jesse gave a crooked smile as he set the bag down on the dining table. 

 

“I couldn’t stick ‘round for too long, I haven't got the nerve to talk for long.” McCree breathed quietly as he swept strands of hair behind his ears. Averting his gaze down to the bag. 

 

A wave of worry weighed on him— The marking. At some point, they’d have to talk about that. When was a time he didn’t know yet, there was too much happening to just throw it out there. How Hanzo would react to that was another important detail he had to think about. They were close friends but even then that could hurt their relationship. They'd just slept together, did that mean anything? What about the kiss? 

 

“Perhaps you can take smaller steps in reuniting. What about only small talk and progress into longer conversations that hold more value. Do not rush it.” Hanzo commented as he curiously stared at the bag. His face was a rosy pink. Flushed. The man looked good even in this state. Oh! He'd forgotten all about the hangover Hanzo's was going through...  But even if he were, that couldn't keep him from inviting in Jesse or holding a conversation? It made him feel warm, distracting him from the tensions gripping at him. 

 

“Jesse?” McCree snapped out of his trance, looking away from Hanzo's face. 

 

“Yeah?” 

 

The cowboy stared at the coffee table, noticing a cold tea. Right beside it was his mug of black coffee, from this morning. He had preferred something bitter to help him through the day. Feeling the itching need to light a cigar and place it between his lips. 

 

“Would you mind answering a question? It is… personal, if you rather not that is fine.” Jesse didn't give it much thought, seeing as how Hanzo basically knew mostly everything about him. Huh, and he was a secret agent in a  _ secret _  organization once. 

 

“Shoot.”

 

“What was your mark?” 

 

Mark. Mark? His mark? His hand instinctively running over his prosthetic arm. “My mark.” Jesse repeated as he glanced down at his arm. “My mark was...” He paused as if he were trying to recall it though there was no need to try. He remembered it. Hanzo gazed at him, waiting for a reply. “It was two dragons. Two dragons ‘n a shape of a circle… like your own lil’ mark.” 

 

Silence crowded the room. He couldn't look at him, no matter how much he wanted to know how he felt. What face he had— he couldn't. Instead looking at his shoes. Trying to avoid the feeling of heat rising to his cheeks. He liked Hanzo. He was in love with the man who held his mark and he held his. Maybe he felt the same? But the growing silence seemed to mean otherwise. Maybe he wanted him to leave. It wouldn't be the same after this. There's no way. 

 

“It's fine if ya’ don't feel the same. I know marks ain't always right. I'll let ya’ to rest.” He strained to keep his voice levelled and cool. It made him feel off. It was fine if Hanzo didn't like him, so why was he so hurt? Scrambling to stand and heading for the door. His heart seconds from chipping away. Why did he tell him?

 

“Jesse wait.” The voice stilled him in his steps. A hand taking his. “I feel the same. I have grown attached to you.” Hanzo mover in front of him, tilting his head so he'd stare at him, cupping his face. Sincerity lay in his eyes. “I don't know what my mark may mean or who it may lead me to but— that does not matter. I've fallen in love with you.”


End file.
